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TRANSLATED FROM THE OORDOO INTO ENGLISH, AND FOLLOWED 
BY A VOCABULARY OF THE DIFFICULT WORDS AND 
PHRASES OCCURRING IN THE TEXT, 




BY 


t 


THOMAS PHILIP MANUEL, 


translator op “gool-i-bakawullee,” and 

EPICS OP EUROPE,” AND “SACRED LYRICS,” 


“ IKHWAN-OOS-SUFFA ;” AUTHOR OF “SELECTIONS PROM THE 
EDITOR OF THE “POETRY OP OUR INDIAN POETS,” &c. &C. 


I 


/ 



“ The voice of Wisdom heard in parables.” 




CALCUTTA: 


MESSRS. THACKER, 


SPINK AND CO., R. C. LEPAGE AND CO., G. C. HAY AND CO., 
AND CO., AND P. S. D’ROZARIO AND CO. 


W. NEWMAN 







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TO 

CAPTAIN E. ST. GEORGE, 

&C. &C. &C. 

THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE INSCRIBED 
WITH THE BEST ESTEEM 

OF THE 

TRANSLATOR. 


Hooghly College. 
1ST NpVEMBER, 1861. 









TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE- 


This is not the first time that the Khirud Ufroz has come into public notice; 
but as it now forms one of the Oordoo Test Books of the Entrance Examinations of 
:the Calcutta University, an English translation of the same has become necessary, to 
/enable Students to understand the Original with greater facility. 

The work consists of a collection of Fables'in which the wisdom of the East and 
hhe West are brought together to illustrate such practical points of morality as meet 
:jus in the works of daily life. Some of the Tales that have come from the West are 
^striking and appositeothers (and fortunately they are few,) are absolutely trashy 
and puerile. But from this taint what Indian work is entirely free? In point of 
style, the Khirud Ufroz has neither the flowery ornateness of the Bagh-o-Bahar, 
nor the chaste simplicity of the Ikhwan-oos-suffa. It steers a middle course and 
is more apt to be liked by the old and thoughtful, than by careless, inexperienced 
youth. 

One word of explanation more. Our original text has been the portion contained 
m the Hmdoostanee Reader Volume III. printed at the C. S. B. Society’s Press and 
fixed by the University. The pages in the Vocabulary therefore have reference to 
this edition of the work. 


Hooghly College. 
1st November, 1861. 


T. P. M. 














KHIRUD UFROZ. 


Story I.—A person chanced to find wealth in 
a forest, aud considered that it would require an 
age to remove it all himself. He resolved there¬ 
fore to hire bearers and carry the whole at once. 
Acting on this determination, and not exer¬ 
cising any prudence, he trusted in strange 
individuals aud delivered the treasure to them, 
—and what was better still, sent them ahead. 
Taking advantage of his folly—the strangers 
wended their way, each to his own house. When 
the thoughtless discoverer of the treasure reached 
home—he found that besides shame and repen¬ 
tance he had gained nothing — Moral, We de¬ 
rive benefit from understanding a book—not 
by committing its contents to memory. 

Story II.— The two Pigeons. Two pigeons 
occupied a single nest. One was named Bazinda : 
the other JSuwazinda. The world envied their ; 
friendship. At last Bazinda thought of travelling, ; 
and thus expressed his wishes to his friend. “ How < 
long are we to live in the same locality—occupy- j 
ing the same nest ? 1 have thoughts of going on a - 
journey—for many are the curiosities we come j 
across in travelling—whereby experience is gained 
and the intellectual faculties sharpened. As long 
as the sword is not unsheathed it gains no ; 
glory in the daring enterprises of heroes, and > 
as long as the pen is not set in motion it assists \ 
not in the communication of ideas. It is on ' 
account of revolutions that the heaven is so 
high—and it is her immobility which makes the 
earth so low. If the tree moved from one place 
to another, it would have escaped both the saw 
and the axe.” The other pigeon returned:— 

“ Friend, you have not felt the woes of travel.”— 

“ True,” replied the other, but the fatigues of the 
way are more than compensated by the sights we 
see ;—and when the curious mind longs for the 
latter, what cares it for the former.” “ Still 
for all that,” pursued his companion, “ it is the 
agreeable society of friends that makes every 
sceue of joy dearer ;—without it—we miss all 
delight—for nothing grieves the hearts of friends 
so much as absence of frieuds. A home and 
the comforts of home are thine at present. 
Be content, and let not vagrant propensities 
lead thee to ruin. Live in company,—for the 
world pelts the lonely with double force.” “ Talk 
not of separation,” remarked his companion, 

“ friends are plentiful every where. If I go away 
hence, I shall very soon meet with an associate 
elsewhere ;—have you not heard the saying—‘Re¬ 
strict not thyself to one friend, nor reside for ever 
in one couutry, for men are plentiful and God’s 
world is spacious.’ I beg therefore you will not 
dwell on the woes of travel; for it is travelling 


;> alone that perfects man.” “Friend”—said Nuwa- 
zmda f “if you can forget old and tried mates, for 

< tl\ e society of new ones, my words can have no 
<; e S ec fc on you ; but philosophers have observed : 
\ ~‘He who slights the words of well-wishing 
; friends, gladdensthe hearts of his enemies.’” Thus 

< having spoken they parted. Alienating his affec- 
\ tions from his friend, Bazinda winged his flight 
; high over mountains and valleys, gazing on 
\ the glories of many a forest. By chance his eyes 
\ f e H 011 a green field, the bloom of whose flowers, 
j and the mildness of the breeze blowing therein, 

\ attracted him. As evening was fast setting 

> in, he made up his mind to alight there. Before 
\ the fatigues of the day had worn off, the face of the 
; heavens darkened, and a violent storm, attended 
| with thunder and lightning, broke upon the 

> tranquil scene. In the confusion which followed, 

| Bazinda had no place of shelter to resort to. 

The leaves and branches of the trees were hard¬ 
ly sufficient to protect him. The night was 
passed amidst troubles. With the break of 
morn he resumed his flight, dubious if he 
should return to the nest he had left, or to 
continue his journey onward —While yet think¬ 
ing, a large royal falcon made an attempt at 
him. The moment his eyes fell on the enemy, 
the heart of the pigeon fluttered with fear, and 
his spirit was much troubled. Fie felt penitent 
for what he had done, and resolved if he escaped 
destruction, to give up all thoughts of travelling, 
and return to his friend. At last the righteous¬ 
ness of his wish effected his deliverance. An 
eagle- coming from another direction tried to 
gain over the pigeon from the pursuit of the 
falcon. The latter, though by no means so 
powerful as the former, was yet resolved to 
make a show of resistance : —while they were 
disputing, the pigeon availed himself of the 
opportunity, and sought shelter in the narrow 
cleft of a rock, where the night was spent. 
The next morning, though unable to fly, he yet 
attempted the act, trembling and fearing, now 
looking to his right aud now to his left. On a 
sudden he beheld a pigeon and grains lying before 
it. Prest with hunger he unhesitatingly 
alighted and joined his kind, but before he had 
picked up a single grain, he found himself 
ensnared. Indignant at the other, “Brother,” 
he exclaimed, “ we are birds of the same genus, 
and it is on your account that I am placed in 
this difficulty—Wherefore did you fail to warn 
me, and to perform an act of friendliness by 
saving me from this snare “ Forbear,” 
answered the other. “ Nothing avails against 
Fate.” “ But cannot you even now devise 


2 RHIRUD UFROZ. 


means”—persisted the captive, “ whereby 1 can j 
be released, aud owe a debt of gratitude to 
you ?” “Fool,’ returned the other, “if I could, 
would I not free myself first, and thus save j 
others from being entrapped. Your case is j 
like that of the young camel, who tired running / 
after his mother, begged of her to stop for a mo- 
meut and give him time to take breath —‘Seest j 
thou not,’ she replied, ‘ that I am led on by 
another. Were it in my power, 1 would have 
rid myself of this burden, and saved thee from ] 
the trouble of running.”’ Having lost all hope, j 
the captive fluttered and struggled, and at last \ 
succeeded in breaking the string which held 
him. He flew homeward. In the way, he came { 
across a depopulated village, aud alighted on a ' 
wall which was contiguous to a field. Here he ' 
was seen by a boy, who was looking after the 
cultivation, and who that moment let fly an 
arrow at him, which hit his arm and precipi¬ 
tated him into a well below—The boy lost his 
game, aud the poor wounded bird remained a 
day and a night in that well. The next morn¬ 
ing he emerged therefrom with the greatest 
difficulty, and once more winged his flight towards 
home, which he reached in safety—His former 
friend came out to welcome him, and seeing 
him in a deplorable state, asked how he was and 
whence he had returned—“ What shall I say?” 
returned the other,—“how enumerate the woes 
aud dang rs I have suffered and passed through 1 
They told experience was to be gained by travel¬ 
ling—and the experience that I have gained tells 
me never to think of travelling again, or of se¬ 
parating myself from thee as long as I live.” 

Story III .—The two Hawks. Once upon a 
time there lived two hawks who had contracted 
great friendship for each other. Their nest 
was on the summit of a hill; and there they 
passed their lives in ease and tranquillity. After 
a time, they had a young, the object of their 
warmest affection, whom they fed with all sorts 
of dainties, until it grew up. One day, they left 
it alone, aud were delayed returning. The ■ 
young, feeling hungry, moved about in the nest, ; 
the edge of which it soon reached, and was being \ 
hurled down the rock, when an eagle, wffio was ] 
in search of food for her young, beheld it < 
falling, aud taking it to be a mouse which had i 
dropped from the talons of another eagle, dashed j 
after it, and catching it up before it had touch- j 
ed the ground, bore it to its nest. There j 
she discovered from the bills and talons of the I 
young, that it was of the same genus as herself, j 
This inspired her with love. She considered I 
that God in His mercy had made her the means j 
of saving the life of that young creature— 
and that if she were not there, the young would 
have been dashed down the hill and had all 
its bones broken—If God then had saved it i 
from destruction, it behoved her to rear it up j 
with her own young—nay to consider it as one 
of them—Acting on this resolve she behaved 
like a parent, till it grew up and considered j 


itself to be an eaglet. But finding its nature 
different from that of the other birds—it 
wondered a great deal how it ever came into 
that nest. The eagle addressing the young 
hawk one day, said, “ My child, why do I behold 
thee sad 1 Tell me what thou requires!, and I 
shall try to get it.”—The other returned “ True 
I am sad,—but why 1 I know not—and what 
I know, I caunot say. I think it would do me 
good if I travelled about for sometime—New 
scenes very probably would drive away dejection 
and restore equanimity.”—The very thought 
of separation tilled the eagle’s heart with grief. 
She sighed and exclaimed.—“Child ! what words 
are these ? Never think of travelling. It is an 
impassable river—a blood-thirsty dragon. 
Those who undertake journeys do so either for 
wealth, or because they find it difficult to re¬ 
main in their native country. This is not the 
case with thee. Thou hast a free home and 
cheerful sufficiency. Dearer than the other 
young ones, we all try to obey thee. Under 
these circumstances it is far from wise to 
leave the comforts of home for the fatigues of 
travel.” “ What you say is indeed very kind,” 
replied the hawk. “ but to me this home is not 
free—nor this sufficiency cheerful: what passes 
in my mind, I really cannot express.” The 
eagle now perceived that what wise men have 
, said was true. Like tends to like. She therefore 
| cut short the conversation thus:—“What I 
say has reference to contentment;—but thou 
aimest at covetousness and rapacity—There 
is no rest for those who cannot be content. If 
thou art not grateful for the good thou hast 
received, nor satisfied with freedom and suffi¬ 
ciency, I very much fear thou shalt suffer what 
the cat did whose story is thus told — 

Story IV.— The old Woman and the Cat. 
In ancient times there lived a weak old wo¬ 
man. who occupied a bare and gloomy cottage. 
She had a cat who had never tasted bread, nor 
ever felt the flavor of flesh. If she came across 
a mouse she was filled with joy, and lived on it 
for a whole week. Going on the terrace one 
day she beheld a neighbour’s cat, which could 
hardly walk on account of her corpulence. 
The old woman’s cat wondered at the plump¬ 
ness of the other, and enquired how it was 
that she managed to live in that grand style.— 

“ I eat,” replied the fat one, “ what is thrown 
away from the king’s table. Every morning I 
attend the royal dining-room. When breakfast 
is served out I receive morsels of meat full of 
fat, and bread made of the finest flour, which 
keep me full to the next day.” What are flour- 
bread and fat of meat ?”—enquired the old 
woman’s cat. “ Besides slops and rats I have 
never tasted aught in my mistress’s house.” 
“That is the reason,” returned the other, laugh¬ 
ing, “ that thefe is no difference between thee 
and a spider. I blush on thy account. Thy 
ears and tail are aloue those of a cat—the 
other members of the spider. If you but be- 




KHIRUD TJFROZ. 


3 


held the dining-room of the king, and smelt 
the dainties laid out there, you would be at 
once revived.” “ Well,” said the famished cat— 
“ will you act a friendly part and take me there ] 
You will thus be the means of invigorating 
my failing powers.” The heart of the other cat 
felt pity at the state of her friend, and she 
promised to take her to the palace the next 
time she went Elated with joy, the old wo¬ 
man’s cat came down from the terrace, and 
disclosed the particulars to her mistress, who 
not at all pleased with the intelligence, counselled 
her thus:—“Friend, be not led away by the 
worldly—nor lose contentment. The covetous 
are never satisfied as long as they live.” But 
all in vain. The next day, she joined her new 
friend, and repaired to the palace. Before this, 
however, misfortune had already marked her. 
A day previous to this, a company of cats had 
assembled and disturbed the neighbourhood by 
their cries and caterwaulings. The king had 
therefore ordered a band of archers to look to 
the destruction of all cats in future. The sub¬ 
ject of our story was ignorant of these arrange¬ 
ments. As soon as she smelt the delicacies 
laid out on the table, she rushed impatiently 
towards it—-when just at that moment a shaft 
pierced her. Wounded and bleeding, she ran as 
fast as her legs would move, all the while 
exclaiming—“ If I escape from the archers this 
time, never more shall I go after aught else but 
rats in future.” 

Story V. —The Ascetic and his son. In anci¬ 
ent times, an ascetic was disabled by poverty 
to support his family. What he gained by 
labor was hardly enough to meet their wants. 
He had a son, whose appearance (lit. forehead) 
gave promise of opulence. His birth improved 
the fortunes of his father, and he was thencefor¬ 
ward able to maintain himself. From his child¬ 
hood, the boy showed a decided likeness for 
bows and arrows, and swords and shields. The 
father, it is true, sent him to school; but his 
dreams were always of battle-fields. When 
he grew up his parent wished he should think 
of marrying—and calling him to his presence, 
desired to know what his intention was. “ The 
marriage-portion of my intended bride,” an¬ 
swered the young man, “is already with me. 
You will not be troubled by rendering any 
assistance.” The father wished to hear the 
details of the case; and to know where 
and what the marriage settlement was. The 
son retired, and returning with a sword, pre¬ 
sented it to his father,—“Here,” he said, “ here is 
the marriage-portion. My bride is Power, and 
nothing but a sword can win her.” And in a 
very short time, this enterprising youth be¬ 
came the governor of a country. 

Story VI. —The Leopard and his young one. 
There was an island near Bussorah the climate 
of which was extremely salubrious. Streams 
flowed on every sideband soft the wind of 
spring blew over them. Such indeed was the 


loveliness of the scene, that the place was 
named the Forest of Delight. The Leopard 
was the ruler, and so powerful was he that 
lions and other rapacious animals trembled 
before him. For a long time he maintained his 
supremacy, and never knew what fear was. He 
had a young whom he loved so much, that if he 
saw him not the world became dark to him. It 
was the chief wish of the father, that as soon as 
the cub was one year old, and could use his 
teeth and paws in attacking his enemies, to make 
over charge of the forest to him—and retire 
from public life. Before the fulfilment of this 
desire, however, death surprised him, and the 
other animals who were always on the look¬ 
out, immediately came together to attack the 
young leopard, who unable to cope with them, 
left his country and went away, an exile. A 
dispute now raged amongst the others, till 
at last a lion, more powerful than the rest, 
overcame all opposition and gained the so¬ 
vereignty. The young leopard wandered about 
for some time; at last he reached a forest, dis¬ 
closed his distresses to the brutes there, and 
solicited aid. This was refused, as the fame 
of the lion’s power had reached them. With 
one accord, they said, “ Thy possessions, poor 
fellow, have been taken away by an enemy 
whom we cannot face. It is advisable now 
for thee to accept service under him and 
obey his commands.” This counsel pleased him, 
for he saw at a glance that he was serving 
his own interest in courting the favor of the 
king of the forest. He returned, obtained an 
audience of the monarch, by means of a third 
party and pledged himself to perform the duties 
entrusted to him. Determined to be true and 
loyal, he flinched from no work. Preferments 
followed fast—so fast in fact that the other 
ministers envied him. Still for all that, he 
was firm as ever. Once upon a time, the lion 
had occasion to undertake a long journey ; the 
wind was blowing warm, and he knew not whom 
to depute on the errand. The young leopard had 
just come in. He found his majesty thoughtful, 
and enquired what made him so. When ap¬ 
prised of the fact, he promptly volunteered his 
services—and taking a train of attendants with 
him started on his journey. In about six 
hours he reached his destination, did the work 
and was returning, when one of his compani¬ 
ons remarked—“ we have travelled fast enough— 
the weather is very warm—our work is done, 
and the king values your services. Better it is 
that we rest awhile under the shade of a tree— 
and quench our thirst.” The young leopard re¬ 
plied, smiling: “ Dexterity and activity secure 

the king’s favor to me. I cannot therefore think to 
be idle for a moment.” This was reported to the 
monarch. He applauded the zeal of his deputy 
and observed—“ Sovereignty befits the diligent, 
and those who shrink from no work in which 
they see the good of their subjects.” After this 
he sent for the leopard—heaped honors on him 



4 


KHIRUD QFROZ. 


—'and appointed him the lord of all his domi- > 
nions.— Moral. Without assiduous diligence no l 
object is gained—and without exertions no j 
success achieved. } 

Story VII .—The Merchant and his sons. There j 
lived a merchant—who had experienced the 
heat and cold of this world—and tasted its \ 
sweets and bitterness. He had three sons, who 
led away by the wild passions of youth, had given < 
up their several professions, and determined to { 
lead a life of useless idleness at the expense of j 
their father. The kind parent still wishing well, > 
counselled them thus:—“Children,if you know j 
not the value of that wealth which has cost $ 
you no pains in its accumulation, you are excused ; 
before Reason ; but remember, money can be the j 
means of acquiring virtue and comfort. World- £ 
ly men desire three things—To live happily— \ 
to rise in rank and to gain the aid of Heaven ; but i 
these they cannot accomplish but by four other j 
means 1st. By following a good profession— J 
2nd. by preserving their gains—3rd. by regula- } 
ting their expenses according to reason, and 4th f 
by trying to eschew evil as much as lies in their \ 
power. Cease then to be idle; learn some j 
useful art—and practise what you have seen me 
doing.” The eldest answered—“Father, you > 
advise me to follow some profession; but this 
is acting contrary to our trust in God—I verily \ 
believe that if I am destined for any profession i 
—1 shall enter it—even if I make no effort; 
and if otherwise, all my endeavours—however j 
strenuous—will be perfectly fruitless—What 
Fate wills us to obtain we get at once—what 
not—never. Hence it is, that it is useless to < 
trouble one’s self for things which we are not j 
fated to gain. 1 have heard a great man say— J 
the daily food I was destined to get, reached J 
me in all circumstances of life—and what it 
was not my lot to acquire kept its own distance, 
notwithstanding all my efforts to obtain \ 
it. It follows then—that nothing § in 
the world can change the decrees of fate.” 1 
—“ All this is true,” returned the father ; “ but \ 
this is a world of efforts. We are not to sit idle, J 
expecting God to aid us. The acquisitions of labor j 
are of greater value than the gains of retire¬ 
ment, for the professional man can benefit j 
others, while the devotee in his seclusion does \ 
good only to himself. He who wishes to be ' 
benevolent should never be idle.” The second ! 
son returned:—“Father! If I follow a profes¬ 
sion, and God crowns my industry with ' 
wealth, how am I to preserve my gains ? \ 
explain the secret to me and I shall respect it.” \ 
“To gain riches”—answered the old man, “is 
easy, to preserve it, and benefit by it, the j 
most difficult. He who becomes rich, should \ 
do two things : 1st. He should save his money ■ 
from waste, and never let it fall in the hands ; 
of thieves, robbers and pick-pockets, for many \ 
are the friends of wealth, but more numerous \ 
its foes. The heavens do not persecute the ' 
indigent so much as the opulent. The 2nd \ 


is, never touch the capital in trade, but live 
on the gains He who draws on the former, 
not content with the latter, will very soon come 
to grief. A river, whose supply of water is 
cut off, soon runs dry—and continual excavations 
can exhaust mountains even. He whose income 
is nil , or who goes beyond it, is sure to die 
of poverty in no time.” When the father had 
doue speaking, the youngest son rose, blest his 
parent—and enquired—how the gains of the 
capital were to be expended when acquired after 
care and preservation. The father answered : 
“Two rules are to be observed. 1st. Avoid extra¬ 
vagance, and be moderate, for great and good 
men prefer a miser to a spendthrift, and though 
generosity is commendable, yet it should be 
directed in the right channel. 2nd. Be not 
stingy and niggardly ; for the wealth of a miser 
is generally wasted, just as if a pond were, to 
be fed by several spriugs of water, with no 
opening to allow it to escape, the result would 
be that the tide would rise higher and higher, 
wear away the barriers, and destroy the tank 
itself” In short, the father’s advice proved 
agreeable to the children. They abandoned 
their idle habits, and each went about following 
some profession, and travelled far and wide 
trading. 

Story VIII .—The two young Princes. In 
Bokhara ruled a powerful King, who had two 
sons, young, robust and hearty. Music was 
their chief delight. The father, giving way to 
foresight, entrusted a large treasure to a 
devotee who had retired from the world to the 
privacies of solitude, and begged of him to 
keep it buried under ground until required by 
his sons, who, he well knew, would fall into 
poverty some day or other—Then the money 
was to be given them, and perhaps after their 
course of folly, he thought they might reform 
their conduct, and live more decently. He fixed 
on a certain spot inside his palace, and informed 
the boys that he had inhumed large sums of 
money there, which they were at liberty to use 
when in want. Shortly after this, the king died, 
and then the devotee,—leaving the treasure con¬ 
cealed where it was. The brothers fell to fighting 
with each other for the property left by their 
father. The elder prevailed, aud became lord 
and master of the dominions. The younger, 
believing that money was lost, aud that the 
heavens were frowning on him, came to the 
conclusion that it was unwise to pine after 
wealth, and saw nothing better than to bid 
adieu to the world and become a durwesh. 
This resolve he carried into execution. Going 
into the forest he fixed his abode in the hut 
of the devotee lately deceased, and shut the door 
of intercourse in the face of all visitors. 
One day, while trying to draw water from a 
well, he discovered to his surprise, that it 
was dry, and became anxious to know the 
reason, lest any thing should go wrong. On 
further aud closer inspection he found that 



KHIRUD UFROZ. 


5 


that there was an excavation inside, and that j impious and unreasonable ? When God gave 
the earth taken therefrom had fallen in and j us hands and feet, He certainly wished us to^use 
dried up the spring of water. Attempting > them in getting our food: you saw the young 
to remedy the evil, he was on the point of j crow, true enough, but why did you shut 
removing the rubbish, when his eyes fell on j your eyes to what the hawk was doing 1 Why 
the treasure. The prince immediately offered j then are you trifling away your time, and en- 
thanks to God; but thought it better to re- dangering your reason, which is a jewel of vast 
main a devotee, notwithstanding the money j price 1 Beware, lest she withdraw her light 
gained, and see what next came to light. > from you!” 

The elder brother was trifling away his life, j Moral. When efforts are needed, passive reli- 
showing no care for his subjects or troops, and j ance on God is not proper, 
wasting money most recklessly, in hopes of ac- ; Story X.— The Zemindar and the Rats. 
quiring the treasure buried in his late father’s \ A Zemindar had laid by a large quantity of 
palace. It chanced, however, that a powerful 1 grain, to be used when required.—It happened 
foe rose against him, and attempted to deprive ) that a rat lived near the granary, the walls 
him of his kingdom. Finding the exchequer j of which he would always dig up ; and num- 
empty, and the army undisciplined, the prince | berless were the holes he made. One of 
went in search of the long expected wealth; these at last opened inside the house, and 
but no trace of it could he find. When all \ brought him plenty of food. This indepen- 
hopes were lost, he determined to fight in i deuce made the creature proud. The rats 
the best way he could. When the armies were j of the neighbourhood, hearing of his good 
drawn out, and the battle had commenced to \ fortune, came in crowds to pay obeisance to him, 
rage, an arrow from the enemies’ ranks found J and the lovers of creature comforts loaded him 
its way into the prince’s heart and laid him l with flattering words; and knowing too well, 
low. It chanced, however, that the leader j that in pleasing him they ensured their own 
of the other army also fell, and thus the troops, pleasure, they took very good care not to offend 
left without any one to direct them, dispersed him in any way. As he wished, they did.— 
on all sides. The several officers, with a view Not a word did they utter that was not com- 
of preventing bloodshed, determined to raise meudatory of him. That fool of a rat also, 
a prince of good blood to the vacant throne. ! had his head turned. He would boast and 
The people pointed to the brother in the forest, j feed sumptuously, never thinking of the mor- 
Deputies were sent, and he was brought out of j row in the enjoyments of to-day. When 
his seclusion to be placed on the throne. Fate several days had elapsed in this way, and a 
had willed that the sceptre should come into j famine visited the land, the Zemindar, on 
his hands, and come it did, without any effort j opening the doors of the granary, found that 
on his part. His father’s dominions were now \ damage was done to the corn. He sighed, 
his. Moral. The decrees of destiny are fulfilled i and thought that it was useless to regret for 
without any trouble on our part. When Fate j what could not be remedied. It was better to 
wills not, all endeavours are unavailing. \ remove the collection to some other place.— 

Story IX.— The Durwesh. A Durwesh was j This he did. The old rat, who had considered 
longing to see the grace and mercy of God > himself lord and master of the granary, was 
manifested. Accidentally he beheld a hawk, with j left sleeping alone in his glory, his friends having 
a bit of flesh in her mouth, flying about a crow’s \ decamped here and there when the corn was 
nest, in which was deposited an unfledged \ removed. True is the saying :—“ False friends 
young, whom she was carefully feeding. “ God j are like flies round sweetmeats.” The next day 
of heaven!” exclaimed the Durwesh, “this in- i when he awoke, not a friend of his could be 
deed is Thy mercy. Yonder unfledged young one seen ; all his efforts to find his companions 
has neither power to fly nor strength to move, \ proved vain. He ran out of the house to go 
and yet Thou providest for him. ^It’s only the j in quest of them, but the moment he set his 
feeblenessof my trust in Thee that drives me from J feet in the public thoroughfare, he heard of the 
lane to lane, and forest to forest, in search of ; terrible famine that was raging in the land.— 
food. It would be better to live secluded in J This at once induced him to return to preserve 
future, and give up all search for provisions.” j his own collections. When arrived in the gra- 
Putting this resolve into execution, he retired nary he found that the corn had vanished, 
from public life, and sate apart from all for and in his hole there was not food sufficient for 
full three days, without food or drink. He could a night even. This discovery filled him with 
bear the calls of hunger no longer. His reason, < despair to such a degree, that he beat his head 
which is the grace and ornament of man, was j against the wall, dashed out his brains, and fell 
about to be affected.—Just at this critical ! a victim to his own extravagance, 
juncture a wise and prudent person came to him, Moral. A man’s expense should be propor- 
and understanding his case, advised him thus ■ tionate to his income. The interest is to be 
“ When we have legs and hands and do not use spent—not the capital. _ , 
them, and when we require support, and yet \ Story XI.— The Meddling Monkey. A monkey 
try to renounce it—is not conduct like this 1 beheld a carpenter cutting wood. The man had 




6 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


two wedges in his hand, one of which he in¬ 
serted in the cleft to widen it, and make the 
action of the saw easier. When the cleft had 
widened to a large extent, he inserted the 
other wedge and pulled out the former. Some 
business calling him away, he went to look 
after it. The monkey seeing his place vacant, 
jumped upon the wood and commenced 
cutting it. Accidentally his testicles got be¬ 
tween the cleft, and when in his confusion 
he tried to pull out a wedge, he made a mistake 
and drew away the wrong one. The result was, 
that the wood immediately joined, crushing the 
part that was between it. The monkey 
raised a loud lamentation on his distress, and 
observed:—“ It is best for every one in the 
world to look to his own proper duty; those 
who abandon it, and meddle with the concerns 
of others, are sure to be punished. My work,” 
he continued, “ was to eat fruits, not to saw ; to 
rove about in the forest, not to wield the tools 
of carpentry.” While yet speaking, the carpenter 
returned, and gave him such a chastisement 
that he died on the spot. 

Moral. Never go beyond the sphere of your 
duty. 

Story NIL— The two Friends. —Two friends, 
named Salim and Ghanim, were travelling 
together. By chance they entered a valley 
where there was a Fountain with a reser¬ 
voir of sweet, agreeable water before it. Shady 
trees grew round this reservoir; and in other 
respects as that spot was lovely indeed, the two 
friends stopped there for some time. After a 
while, they rose and leisurely walked round 
the pond and the fountain, when all on a 
sudden their eyes fell on a white stone, with 
this inscription on it :—“ O traveller! thou 
hast honored me with thy visit, and hospita¬ 
bly I shall receive thee! But on this condition, 
that fearless of life, you enter the reservoir; 
swim across it to the base of the mountain; 
lift up a stone lion therefrom; take it on thy 
shoulders, and run up the hill. Let not the ra¬ 
pacious animals terrify thee, nor the thorns in 
the way check thy course. The moment thou 
reachest the spot indicated, thou shalt be re¬ 
warded.” As soon as the inscription was read, 
Ghanim turned to Salim, and said :—“ Brother, 
come let us call up courage and attempt the 
deed.” “ Friend,” replied the other, “it is foolish 
to trust an anonymous inscription, and risk 
life in pursuit of an imaginary reward. No wise 
man would knowingly swallow poison, because 
its antidote was at hand ; nor undergo present 
toil to gain future rest.” “Friend,” pursued 
the other, “cowards only shrink from labor 
to brave danger, and endeavour courageously 
to ensure the acquisition of wealth and 
honor. The bold are never content with a 
morsel of bread and a corner in a hut. Uutil 
they arrive at the summit of glory, / they can 
never rest. The rose-buds of thy desires can¬ 
not be gathered without suffering from the 


thorns of trouble, and the door of thy wishes 
never oped, but by the key of efforts. I shall, 
fearless of death and destruction, make an at¬ 
tempt to reach the mountain top.”—“ But,” 
persisted the other, “ is it reasonable to travel on 
an endless road, or to swim in a shoreless ocean ? 
How can the wise accomplish such tasks, with¬ 
out knowing the ins and outs of their work, 
and the result that is to be gained from it ? It’s 
a saying—‘ Do not advance until you have secured 
a safe footing.’ First see how you are to 
emerge before you make a plunge. Perhaps 
some one has indulged in a joke ; or it may be 
that there is some whirlpool in the pond, 
which makes it impossible to cross ! And grant¬ 
ed even that you do cross it, perhaps there 
is no stone lion to be seen ; and if seen, per¬ 
haps it is too heavy, and cannot be lifted. 
Then, perhaps you will not be able to run -up 
j the mountain, and if you are, it may be that 
i you will gain nothing eventually. At any rate, 
| I do not join in the undertaking, and would 
; fain dissuade thee from the same.” “Never 
1 think I will fail,” said Ghanim, “ I know 
j you have not the courage to follow me. Look 
I on then, and like a friend assist me with your 
j prayers.” “I see,” replied the other, “that you 
are not to be turned aside. I however will 
not countenance a proceeding I do not approve. 
I shall depart before you enter on the work.” 
In short, leaving Ghanim alone, he went his 
way. The other now prepared himself, re¬ 
gardless of life, for the plunge. Fate assisted 
him, his courage aided him, Faith befriend¬ 
ed him, and God was with him. A moment, 
and lo ! he has crossed the pond—one effort 
more !—he lifts up the stone lion, and behold 
/ him on the top of the hill. On the other side 
f he beheld a city, when all on a sudden, from the 
stone lion issued a tremendous roar, which 
made the whole town tremble. Immediately a 
concourse of people made their appearance, 
and while Ghanim was yet wondering, made 
their obeisance to him, placed him on a horse, 
took him into the city, bathed him with 
rose water, clothed him with princely robes, 
and made him their king. On enquiring, they 
told him that in ancient times certain wise 
men had placed a talisman at the base of the 
hill. Whenever their king died, God sent them 
another, who was sure, through divine aid, to 
cross the pond, lift up the stone lion, and gain 
the height of the mountain. The roar of the 
lion attracted the people, who were to proceed 
and receive their new sovereign. 

Story XIII. The Fox and the Brum. —A Fox 
was roving about in a forest in search of food, 
when her eyes fell on a domestic cock, who was 
picking up grains under a tree. She immediately 
tried to make a prey of the bird, when all on a 
sudden she heard the beat of a drum, which was 
suspended from a tree, and struck by the branch¬ 
es agitated by the wind. Judging from its 
sound, she fancied the drum to be some dying 




KHIRUD UFROZ. 


7 


animal, whose size warranted the supposition 
of its being a good deal fleshy; and she turned 
towards the tree. The cock saw her and ran 
away. With a great deal of trouble the fox got 
on the tree, and succeeded in tearing up the 
drum, to find that it was made of dry skin and 
wood. Ashamed of herself, she shed tears and 
exclaimed :—“ Alas ! My own dubiousness has 
kept me away from what was good. True the 
drum makes a great deal of noise, but there is no¬ 
thing in it. If you are wise, prize that which has 
some intrinsic value; for exteriors are deceiving.” 

Story XIV. The Durwesh and the Thief. —A 
king presented a valuable suit of robes to a 
Murwesh. A thief heard of this affair, but 
though he tried hard to gain access to the devo¬ 
tee’s house, he could not succeed. At last he 
turned to and became one of his disciples, and 
showed great zeal in learning all the abstruse 
points of theology: but before many days had 
elapsed he came across the rich robes, stole them, 
and decamped. When the durwesh found the 
suit as well as the new disciple missing, he sus¬ 
pected the truth, and went in search of him. 
In the way he saw two deer fighting like two 
lions. Blood was dripping in torrents from their 
heads and mouths. A fox just then came in 
and began licking the blood, when he was gored 
to death from both sides. The durwesh saw this 
and proceeded onward. In the evening he reached 
a city, the gates of which were closed. An old 
woman took compassion on him and called him ; 
into her house. The holy man entered, and - 
taking his seat in a corner, engaged himself : 
in prayers. Now this old dame was a notori- \ 
ous bawd, who had several girls for the purpose i 
of prostitution. The gains of their sin supported « 
her. One of these, the handsomest of all, was ! 
in love with a young man. They both lived toge- ; 
ther, and such was their affection for each other I 
that the girl never thought of any other lover, ; 
nor he of any other mistress. This was by no 1 
means agreeable to the old dame, whose gains ; 
were affected thereby, and she had determined i 
to kill the infatuated youth. That very night was j 
fixed for the fulfilment of her wish. She first \ 
plied the lovers with wine, until they fell asleep; j 
then pouring deadly poison into a tube, she appli- \ 
ed one end of it to the nostrils of the young man, 1 
and taking the other in her own mouth, was 
on the point of blowing the contents into his i 
brains, when the sleeper gave a loud sneeze, j 
which sent the poison into the old woman’s i 
throat and despatched her to hell in no time. The \ 
durwesh was struck with the sight, rose from his j 
corner, and went out to search another place of 
rest. A shoemaker, who was one of his disciples, ! 
took him home, treated him very hospitably, and i 
then departed on some business. His wife, who j 
was enamoured of some other person, embraced f 
the opportunity of his absence, and sent a go- i 
between to invite her lover ; informing him that ! 
the house was entirely free from strangers ; that ] 
the honey was kept ready, and there were no flies; \ 


\ and that they had the night to themselves, free 
| alike from the disturbance of watchmen and 
| kotwccls, Just, however, as the paramour was ou 
| the door, the husband returned, and finding all 
j the suspicions he had entertained of his wife’s 
fidelity thus unexpectedly confirmed by the pre¬ 
sence of the paramour, he entered the house, 
j kicked and cuffed the woman to his heart’s con- 
| teut, and then tying her up to a pillar went to 
sleep.—The durwesh was in thoughts that it was 
; very unmauly on the part of the husband to 
beat his wife without any fault, and that it was 
f hi s duty to have prevented him from doing so ; 
| when the go-between, a barber’s wife, returned, 

; and called out “ Sister! how long are you going 
| to detain the young man ?” The other, crying 
and sobbing, called her, and replied—“ Sister, 
my heartless husband, on seeing the young man 
j at the door, came in like a maniac: he belaboured 
j me tremendously, and tied me up to this post. 

J If you will take pity on my condition, you 
\ will untie the knots and take my place here for 
| a few moments, to enable me to go and excuse 
/ myself to my friend ; after which I shall return 
f and let you go. The barber’s wife did as desired, 

! and let her go out. The durwesh was glad he 
j had not interfered, when just at that moment 
> the husband awoke and called out to his wife. 

! The barber’s wife, afraid of detection, could not 
! answer the call.—Once, twice, three times ! When 
; the man found she would not utter a word, he 
| got up in a rage, went near her, and cutting off 
her nose, gave it to her to make a present of it to 
her lover. The unfortunate woman, still silent, 
was glad to escape with life, even at this cost. 
She only thought within herself, that this was 
a strange world ; one sins and another is pun¬ 
ished.—The shoemaker’s wife, on her return, find¬ 
ing her friend’s nose gone, offered many apolo¬ 
gies to her, untied her from the post, and had 
herself fastened to it. The barber’s wife, with 
the nose in her hand, turned homewards, crying 
and weeping alternately in her perturbation.—■ 
The Durwesh, who was a silent spectator of all 
that had passed, was filled with astonishment. 
The shoemaker’s wife had now recourse to arti¬ 
fice, and raising her voice, “Oh God of justice!” 
she exclaimed, “ Thou knowest how my husband 
has treated me, and how he has charged me with 
a crime I have never committed. Show Thy 
mercy to me, Lord, and restore to me my nose, 
which is the ornament of my countenance.” The 
husband roused by the noise, called out “.Oh 
thou wicked creature ! what prayers art thou 
offering, and what are the requests thou art 
preferring to God 1 Knowest thou not that God 
never hears the prayers of the wicked 1” 

“ Tyrant!” shrieked the woman, “ come and see 
the power of God, and then thou wilt be con¬ 
vinced of my innocence. Because I was sinless, 
the kind Creator of all has restored my nose, 
and saved me from infamy.” That foolish man 
got up, lit a lamp, and approaching his wife 
found that her nose was all right, whereupon 




8 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


he confessed his 'own folly, offered many apolo- i would grow up and be able to fly, he would carry 
gies begged her pardon, and solemnly swore | them off for his own young to prey upon. The 
never to°be hasty in any action in future, and \ old birds loved their native country, and there- 
never to act against the wishes of his pious i fore could not leave it ; and yet it was not advisa- 
better half. The barber’s wife, in the meantime, > ble to live in the vicinity of the hawk. On one 
had reached home, nose in hand. She was yet J occasion, when the young were perfectly fledged, 
in thoughts of what excuse she was to make to j the parents were greatly delighted. When the 
her lord, her relations and friends ; when the good \ thoughts of the hawk occurring to them, their 
man was roused from sleep, and called for the j joy was changed to sighs and groans. One of 
case in which the instruments of his profession j the young, who looked wiser than the rest, enquir- 
were kept. The woman muttered something j ed into the cause of their grief. They recounted 
in executing the order, and at last handed over { to him the tyrannical conduct of the hawk, and 
a razor to her husband, who getting enraged, j then expressed their fears for the safety or their 
flung it, in the dark, at her, and commenced young. “ To repine at the dispensations of 
pouring out a torrent of abuse. The woman gave j God,” observed the young one, “ befits not 
a shriek, exclaiming, c ‘ What hast thou done ? j man. He in His wisdom has created a remedy 
my nose is gone.” The man was confused, for every pain. If you would but try to remove 
Friends and neighbours came running from all the evil you complain of, perhaps God will ward 
sides, and sure enough they found the woman’s off the impending danger from our heads, and 

nose gone, and her clothes saturated with blood; J lighten the weight of your mind s anguish. 

whereupon they began blaming the man, who j The old birds liked the proposition, lhe mother 
had lost all power of returning yea or nay to what j remained in the nest to protect the young, while 
they were saying. When day dawned the j the male bird went out to look after the forma- 
woman’s relations assembled, and took the hus- j tion of some plans. After travelling for a short 
band before the Magistrate. By chance, our friend, \ time, (his mind filled with thoughts as to the 
the durwesh, who knew that functionary, had gone | removal of the evil) his eyes fell on a Salaman- 
over to him, and was conversing on different ; der who had just emerged from fire, and was 
subjects, when this case came on. The judge j crawling on the ground. When the bird beheld 
asked the barber why he had done wrong to the j this strange creature, he thought of recounting 
woman, without any fault on her part. When j his woes to him, in hopes that he may be able to 
he could not return a satisfactory answer, he j devise some measures. With a great deal of 
was sentenced to loose his nose. Here the de- respect he approached the Salamander, who 
votee interposed and asked for time; for,observ- | received him kindly and hospitably, and enquir¬ 
ed he, “ The thief did not steal my robes, nor J ed why he looked so sad. “ If the fatigues of 
the deer kill the fox, nor the poison journey have told on thee,” he continued, “ stay 
destroy the wicked old dame, nor the barber j with me for some time, and take rest; if it is 
cut off his wife’s nose. Each brought the t some difficulty that oppresses thee, make me 
evil on him or herself.” The judge reprieved J acquainted with it, and I shall try my best to 
the prisoner, and requested the holy man to j assist thee.” The bird gave an account of his 
furnish him with details. He complied, gave j trouble. “ Relieve your mind, cried the other, 
every particular from beginning to end, and wound j ‘‘I shall aid in its removal. This very night 
up with the following:—“If 1 had not a strong i I shall try to burn the hawk and his nest to- 
desire of gaining disciples, I would not have j gether, so that no trace of either one or the 
been deceived by the thief, nor he found oppor- other shall remain.'’ When the appointed hour 
tunity and stolen the robes. If the fox was not j had come, the Salamander, accompanied by his 
so covetous of blood, she would not have met \ friend, and carrying some naphtha and sulphur, 
with disaster. If the wicked old woman had no J followed the bird to the hawk’s nest, who was 
intention of poisoning the sleeping youth, she j found fast asleep with his young ones, after having 
would not have perished herself; and if the bar- taken their eveniug repast. The Salamander 
ber’s wife had never connived at wickedness, her < cast the combustibles in the nest, and returned, 
nose would have been safe.” The judge on j The deed was^done^. ^ The hawk with his young 
hearing the particulars, punished each according 
to her and his deserts. 

Moral. He who does evil should never expect 
good. If sugar-canes you want, sow not colo- ... 
cynth seeds. A wise man has said, “ If your \ justice, was grievously oppressing his subjects, 
deeds are evil, their fruits will be evil too.” ! Persecuted beyond toleration, the people cried 

Story XV.—The Birds , the Hawk and the j night and day to God, and invoked maledictions 
Salamander . A pair of birds, in old times, occu- j on his head. One day he went out to hunt, and 
pied a nest on a certain tree, which was over- inasmuch as the mercy of God was still on him, 
looked by a mountain, on the summit of which j he was led to a lonely part of the forest, where 
lived a hawk. This creature was always in the f he heard the following words uttered by some 
habit of darting, lightning-wise, from his nest, j invisible creature :—“ It is not kingly to fare 
and destroying the young of the birds. When these ( sumptuously and live luxuriously ; but to watch 




> were aestroyea, anu rue 
} turbed ever after. 

' Story XVI .—The Oppressor Reformed. In 
! davs of yore there lived a king, who forgetting 



KHIRUD UFROZ. 


9 


over the good of the people* and to lessen their 
sufferings by ceasing to oppress them.” When 
he returned to the city, he called his subjects, 
and addressed them thus :—“ Men ! my mind 
was hitherto blind to the truth. This day a 
voice from Heaven has roused me to a sense of 
duty. I hope from to-day that no tyrant will 
oppress any of my subjects, and no persecutor 
enter the house of any.” He then ordered his 
porters to publish this throughout the city. 
The people rejoiced at the intelligence, for their 
fondest wish was now fulfilled. In short, the 
king’s justice became the theme of conversation 
everywhere. Kids were suckled by lionesses, 
and ducklings sported with hawks. Hence he 
was named Shah Bad. (The just king.) One 
of his courtiers asked him why he had renounc¬ 
ed tyranny and taken to justice. He replied and 
said, “The reason of my awaking to a sense of 
equity is this :—as I was riding about in a forest, 

I saw a dog chasing a fox, and worrying her by 
repeated attacks on her hind legs. The fox, half 
lame, rau into the cleft of a rock, and the dog 
returned. That very moment some person flung 
a stone at him, which broke his leg; a few 
minutes had hardly elapsed, when the man 
received a kick from a horse, and had his leg 
fractured, and the horse had not gone far when 
his leg went into a hole and broke. This arous¬ 
ed me. I said to myself, thou hast seen what 
these creatures did and what they have received. 
Take heed then. These things show to thee 
that evil doers never go unpunished. This 
cured me of neglect, and opened the gates of 
reformation for me. 

Story. XVII —The Crow , the Serpent and the 
Jackal .—A crow lived in a valley and had 
built her nest in the cleft of a rock, near which 
was the hole of a serpent. When the crow had 
young oues, the serpent would eat them up, and 
thus afflict her heart. When this oppressive 
I conduct had gone beyond measure, the crow 
\ related the particulars to a jackal, a friend of 
j hers, and said that she wished by some means or 
f other to save her young from the serpent. 

i “How can this be done?” enquired the Jackal, 
“how will you accomplish your end without 
coming to grief yourself?” She replied—“ I wish, j 
when he falls asleep, to attack him with my i 
bill and pick out his eyes, so that he may never \ 
harm my tender young ones again.” “ Your plan i 
is not wise,” returned the Jackal. “ When you 
attack an enemy, you should first ensure your 
own safety; otherwise you will suffer what the j 
otter did.” 

Story XVIII .—The Otter , the Crab and the j 
i Fishes .—An Otter lived on the banks of a tank, 
and was exclusively employed in preying on j 
| fish found therein The rest of his time was ; 

I devoted to luxury. When his youthful vigour i 
had departed, and the infirmities of age began j 
to press hard on him, he gave way to regrets, i 
t and exclaimed : “ Alas ! I have uselessly wasted j 
the best days of life, regardless of the future. 1 


Nothing have I acquired, which can now be of 
advantage to me in my decline. I cannot prey 
any longer, and yet I must support myself. 
Better it is to have recourse to artifice, and gain 
my ends by meaus of guile. Sighing and weep¬ 
ing, he drew near the pond, and beheld a crab, 
who approached him, and asked why he looked 
so sad. “I am sorry,” he replied, “because I 
have hitherto lived by preying on fish, and now 
I cannot; for if their number had not decreased, 
I would not have been placed in this plight. 

\ Two fishermen passing this way, were speaking 
\ amongst themselves, that there were a good 
many fishes in this tank, and that means should 
be devised to ensnare them. Another remark¬ 
ed, that there was a pond in the vicinity which 
contained more, and that it was better to be 
done with that first. Now,” continued the otter,. 
“ if such is really tjje case, I may as well despair 
of the sweets of life, and accept the bitterness 
of death at once.” The moment the crab heard 
these words, he went to the finny tribe, and 
related the particulars to them. Loud were the 
lamentations raised by these creatures. How 
to escape they knew not. At last, the crab 
proposed that as this news was communicated 
to him by the otter, in a disinterested spirit, 
it was best to repair to him, in hopes that he 
might show them the way how to escape. The 
fishes unanimously adopted the suggestion, 
and bent their way to the otter. “ Through 
you,” they said, “ we have received disastrous 
intelligence: as we are powerless, may we hope 
for advice from you ? Enemy as you are, still, 
as you are wise, we are sure that you will not 
sacrifice truth for any petty consideration, nor 
give us a wrong advice ; particularly as you are 
interested in the matter, living as you do on 
us. Pray, how do you counsel us then ?” He 
replied, “ You cannot escape from the fishermen, 
and I see no other way of safety but this: 
there is a pond in the neighbourhood, unap¬ 
proachable to the brute creation, and more par¬ 
ticularly to men. If you could go there, the rest 
of your lives would be a long term of pleasure 
and ease.” “ Splendid advice this,” observed 
the fishes, “ but how are we to go there, unless 
you be. our guide ?” “ As much as lies in my 
power,” returned the otter, “ I shall render 
you assistance; but unfortunately the way 
is very dangerous, and it is impossible for 
more than a few to go at a time. What’s worse 
again is,*that we must expedite matters, and 
therefore I should advise you to leave me alone 
and -look for your own safety : I fear I may fail 
in the undertaking, aud lose my credit with 
you.” But no,—the fishes would put up with no 
excuse. At last, it was decided that a few would 
accompany their kind guide daily, to be put into 
the pond. From the next morning, then, he 
escorted a few of the fishes to a neighbouring 
hillock, and there devoured them leisurely. On 
his return, when the others would express a desire 
of departing, he would pity their state ; but at 






JO 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


the same time could not help shedding tears at j 
their foolish haste. In sooth, he who is over- ! 
reliant on the professions of a false friend, ; 
deserves to be treated in the same manner.' ! 
After the lapse of many days, the crab expressed ; 
a wish of being taken to the pond. The otter j 
consented at once ; for he knew that this was his ; 
greatest enemy, and it was best to treat him in ! 
the way that his finny friends were dealt with. \ 
He lifted him upon his shoulders, and proceeded 
in the well-known way. From a distance, the 
crab beheld a heap of fish-bones, and at once 
knew how matters stood. He thought that it 
was committing suicide to allow an enemy to j 
encompass his destruction, without stirring in ! 
the matter himself. If he tried to frustrate his ! 
plans, he knew he would be benefited in one of ! 
two ways. If he overcame his adversary he ; 
would gain fame; and if overcome, he would ! 
die an honorable death. Whereupon he stuck j 
to the otter’s neck, and held it fast. The otter, / 
unable to move, became powerless ; fell on the j 
ground, and expired. The crab alighted from i 
his shoulders, returned to the tank, where he j 
lamented the fate of the poor dupes who had j 
been killed, congratulated the survivors on their j 
escape, and disclosed the true state of things as ! 
they were. Much did the fishes rejoice, know- j 
ing that the death of the otter was the means of \ 
their own salvation. 

Story XIX.— The Wolf, the Hare and the 
Fox. —A famished Wolf was running about in j 
search of food, when by chance he beheld a hare > 
fast asleep in a bush. Slowly was he approach- i 
ing her, when the hare heard the sound of his 
footsteps, and starting up, was on the point of > 
running off; but the wolf stood in the way, j 
and flight was impossible. Sobbing out aloud, 
she said, “ l know your hunger is very great at 
present, but I am so insignificant as hardly to > 
form a morsel, and will that satisfy you ? In the j 
neighbourhood there lives a fox, who can scarcely j 
move on account of her corpulency. I shall ! 
try my best to entrap her, so that your Honor 
may feast on her. If you are satisfied, good ; 
if not, I am at your service. The wolf, beguiled 
by these promises, bent his way towards the 
residence of the fox. When they drew near, the 
hare went ahead and saluted Mrs. Reynard, who 
received her very kindly, and enquired whence j 
and with what intention had she (the hare) I 
come. “ I had long a wish,” said the hare, “ to j 
come and see you; but sickness prevented. At j 
present, a great personage, who has been appoint¬ 
ed governor of this forest, has expressed a wish to 
be introduced to you through me. He has heard 
of your retirement, and will esteem it a favor to 
be allowed to call on you to-day, leisure per¬ 
mitting : if not, another day will do. The fox, 
who well understood cunning and artifice, saw j 
through the intention of the hare by the drift of j 
her conversation, and immediately determined J 
to pay her off with her own coin. After flat¬ 
tering her, she remarked:—“I am always ready 


to receive travellers. I make it a point to 
entertain them kindly, in hopes that one of 
these days I may be honored with the visit 
of some really great personage, whose words 
of wisdom will serve to edify me. To en¬ 
tertain such people I shall never fail. Though 
wise men have said, that every one eats the 
bread destined for him, never mind on whose 
board ; yet when he eats the same in my house, 
it is imperative on me to treat him hospitably ; 
notwithstanding that the bread he eats is the 
bread destined for him. Pray wait a few mi¬ 
nutes, until I make every thing right for the 
reception of my august guest.” The hare fancied 
that her artifice had succeeded, and that the 
object aimed at would soon be hit. She replied, 
“The guest is of a religious turn of mind, and 
cares very little for outward show. But never 
you mind, prepare what you like.” Saying so 
she went out, and cheered the wolf with news 
of how she had succeeded in deceiving the fox. 
Reynard, however, was more.prudent. She im¬ 
mediately dug a pit at the entrance of her house, 
and covered it up with straw and rubbish. She 
then prepared another way for egress, to be 
availed of if required. Then raising her voice, 
she called out, “ Enter my kind guest!” and 
decamped. The wolf and the hare advanced, 
when down they fell into the dark pit. The wolf, 
fancying that this was a trick played on him by 
the hare, immediately tore her to pieces, and 
then expired through hunger. 

Story XX .—The Lion and other Animals .—Near 
Bagdad there was a park, lovely in climate, 
and teeming with the delights of life. Many 
animals had taken up their abode in it, and 
amongst the rest a hot-tempered lion, who 
sometimes afflicted the others by destroying their 
young. One day the leading members of their 
community waited on him, and after expressing 
sentiments of respect for him, began :—“ We are 
your subjects and troops; sacrifice us you can ; 
but where is the use of our living for ever in 
fear of you, and of your taking the trouble of 
preying on us. We have thought of a very good 
plan, which will save you trouble, and free us 
from anxieties. If it be not inconvenient for 
you, and if you agree to abide by your promise, 
we shall daily present you with an animal to 
feed upon. The lion agreed, and from that day 
they cast lots among themselves, and he whose 
name was drawn was sent to be devoured by the 
lion. It happened once that a hare was thus 
doomed to destruction. He begged for a short 
delay, promising to free them from the clutches 
of the blood-thirsty tyrant at once. As they all 
respected his good sense, they complied with his 
request, and delayed till the hour appointed 
had passed by. The lion was enraged and gnash¬ 
ed his teeth. When the hare drew near, he 
found him highly indignant, ravenously hungry, 
and loud in denouncing the faithlessness of the 
other beasts. Slowly he approached, and paid 
obeisance to the King. “ Whence art thou 



KHIRUD UFROZ. 


11 


coming?” roared the lion, “and why have the 
leading members of thy community broken 
their promise?” “They have not been guilty of 
.negligence,” returned the hare; “they sent a 
rabbit for you, and, I was bringiug it with me, 
when we met a lion in the way, who took it 
away by force. I was not backward in 
telling him that the animal was for your ma¬ 
jesty, but he heeded me not; saying that this 
park was his, and he the king of the forest. He 
talked in such a boasting tone that I was afraid 
he would attack me also. Hence I have run 
to you to give all the particulars.” The hungry 
lion felt ashamed. “Hare!” he exclaimed, 
“ show that creature to me, and I shall avenge 
both thee and myself.” “ Gome on,” said the 
hare, “I have marked his abode. For all that 
he did say against you, I would have, if I could, 
broken his head, and made a cup of his skull 
for other animals to drink water out of it; but 
nevertheless, I hope to see him in your clutches.” 
Thus having said, he led the way, the foolish 
lion following. Taking him to a well, the water 
of which was clear and transparent as glass, 
whence the looks of the beholder were faithfully 
reflected, he addressed him thus:—“ My lord ! 
your enemy lives in this well : I cannot face him 
through fear; if you would take me in your arms, 
I would point him out to you.” The lion did as 
desired. The moment that his eyes fell on the 
shadow, he fancied that that was his adversary, 
with the identical rabbit in his arms. Leaving 
the hare on the edge be jumped down, and 
met with a watery death. The hare returned 
and gave the happy news to the rest. Great was 
their joy at the event, and many the thanks 
they offered to God for their deliverance. 

Story XXI .—The Fish and the Fishermen. 
In the basin of a fountain lived three fishes, 
quite content with their lot. Two or three 
fishermen by chance passed that way, and seeing 
them, hastened to fetch their nets. The three 
friends being apprised of their design, were very 
much alarmed. One of them, who was the 
wisest, availed herself of the night, and without 
consulting her companions escaped from the basin 
into the Fountain itself. In the morning the 
fishermen made their appearance, and surrounded 
the basin on all sides. Another fish, who was 
partially wise, regretted she had not escaped 
with her sister; but now, as the way was closed, 
she resolved to have recourse to artifice. 
The wise she thought, have said, that at the 
time of distress plans avail little or nothing; 
but still, the prudent should try their best 
to ensure safety. Whereupon she feigned 
to be dead, and floated on the surface of the 
water. The fishermen took her up, and think¬ 
ing she was really lifeless, flung her aside. She 
then crawled to the fountain and escaped. The 
third, who was the most foolish, remained stir¬ 
ring about in the water, until caught. 

Story XXII .—The Tortoise and the Scorpion. 
A tortoise and a scorpion, who were great 


i friends, would never on any 'occasion separate, 
j Once they had occasion to travel, and both set 
! out from their native country in search of 
{ some clime where they could pass their days 
) in ease. By chance they came to a river which 

I they were to pass. The scorpion became sorrow¬ 
ful and cast down his head. “ Friend,” asked 
the tortoise “ why art thou sorrowful ? Why 
hast thou banished joy ?” “ Brother,” return¬ 
ed the other, “ how are we to cross this river ? 
| Swim I cannot, nor can I leave thee. What is 
I to be done ?” “ Rest your mind,” replied his 
/ friend, “ I shall see you safe on the other side. 
I Whereupon, he placed the scorpion on his back 
| and began swimming, when a strange scratch- 
! ing sound reached his ears. From the move- 
' ments of the creature on his back, he divined 
j the cause, and enquired what his friend was 
j about. “ I am only trying my sting on the 
J covering of your back,” answered the scorpion. 

The tortoise got offended and said, “Impolite 
j as you are ! is this proper ? I have cast myself 
j in this stream on your account, so that you can 
| safely reach the opposite shore. If you have 
no gratitude in you, and cannot return good for 
| good, at least spare your stings, which I am 
sure cannot do me any harm.” “ Although I 
; am your friend,” returned the other, “ and 
J much obliged to you, yet my nature is so. I 
| must sting some one, foe or friend.” The tor- 
I toise now recalled to mind the saying of the 
5 wise. “ By rearing up a vile wretch, you eu- 
I danger your own honor.” On a sudden he gave 

I a plunge and set the scorpion afloat. “ Dear 
friend,” he called out terrified, “ What have 
you done ? my life is in danger.” “Very sorry; 
but can’t help it,” replied the tortoise, “ my 
nature is so.—It is evil to do good to the 
wicked.”— 

Story XXIII.—The Duck and the Fish. —A 
duck who lived near a pond, used to support life 
f by killing and eating fish. One evening she re- 
\ turned home rather late, and perceiving the 
1 moon reflected from the water imagined it to 
| be a large fish. She tided her best to get it; 
| but to no purpose. After this when she saw the 
J fishes swimming about, she took them to be 
/ the reflex of the moon, and made no effort to 
\ catch them, saying, “ What is the use of try- 
ing again ?” The result was, that she was always 
starving. 

Story XXIV.— The Hawk and the tame Fowl. 
A hawk arguing with a tame fowl, remarked, 
| “You are faithless and ungrateful, notwith- 
\ standing that faith and gratitude are clearly 
| prized by all living creatures. Humanity and 
i reason also tell us to value these qualities.” 
“ What faithlessness have you seen in me,” asked 
the fowl, “and what acts of ingratitude ?” “One 
| sign is this, replied the other, that though 
j every one is kind to you, feeds you, and gives you 
j place to live in, yet when any one tries to 
j catch you, you fly about from place to place, 
j and hide yourself in holes and corners. Is this 




12 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


the gratitude you show to him who feeds you 1 
For my part, though 1 am wild, yet if they feed 
me for a day or two, 1 understand the obligation 
I owe them. I hunt for them, and return at 
their call from any distance.” “All this is very 
true,” returned the fowl, “ but there is a vast 
difference between your returning, and my fly¬ 
ing away. You have never yet' seen a hawk 
roasted on a spit. If you had beheld what 
I have, you would have fled from mountain to 
mountain, to escape falling into the hands of 
man. 

Story XXV .—The Gardener and the Nightin¬ 
gale .—A farmer owned a garden, rich in floral 
treasures, and blooming with roses. Every morn¬ 
ing the heart of the gardener rejoiced to see the 
buds opening. Once upon a time he beheld a 
nightingale placing her mouth near a rose, and 
tearing its leaves with her bill, all the while sing¬ 
ing merrily. The man got angry at the sight of 
the destruction of the flower, and soon contriv¬ 
ed, by means of grains, to deceive the bird, whom 
he entrapped and put into a cage. She, afflicted 
in heart, opened her mouth and asked, “Friend, 
why hast thou confined me 1 If it is on account 
of my voice, my nest is in thy garden ; but if it 
is for some other cause, let me know it, and I 
shall call patience to aid, and remain quiet.” 
“Knowest thou not,” asked the farmer, “how 
much you have distressed me by destroying my 
roses in which I take so much delight ?” Are these 
thy thoughts 1” asked the bird. “ Consider for 
a while: if for destroying a flower I am to be 
punished by being encaged, how shouldst thou 
be for afflicting and distressing a heart ?” The 
farmer was affected, and he released the bird 
who thanked him very kindly ; and not to be 
wanting in gratitude, informed him that under 
such a tree there was a ewer full of gold buried. 
This she wished him to exhume and bring to 
his use. The farmer followed the advice given 
him, and succeeded in gaining the treasure. 
Full of astonishment, “ Nightingale!” he exclaim¬ 
ed, “ how is it that thou could’st see treasure 
under ground, and yet overlook the snare laid 
for thee above it“ Knowest thou not,” asked 
the bird that before fate the light of wis¬ 
dom and the plans of reason are equally power¬ 
less 1” 

Story XXVI .—The Hunter , the Fox and the 
Leopard .—A hunter, going through a forest, met a 
fox, whose appearance pleased him very much. 
He took a fancy to its sleekness, and imagined that 
its hide would fetch a good price. He pursued 
the creature, and knowing its course, dug a 
ditch in its way, covered it up with straw and 
rubbish, placed a carcase on it, and lay in wait 
himself The fox, attracted by the smell, 
approached the snare laid in its way; but 
exercising prudence, she remembered that it 
was running a risk in going after it. She thought 
it was possible that the remains of some 
animal were deposited somewhere, but at 
the same time, it was likely that a snare may 


i have been laid in her way: giving up the pur- 
\ suit then, she remained safe. In the mean- 
/ time, a leopard, descending from the moun- 
i tain, scented out the lure and fell into the ditch 
!; in trying to get it. When the hunter was 
J apprised of the fall, he ran to the well, and led 
\ on by covetousness, purposely threw himself in- 
i to it. The leopard believing that the hunter had 
\ intentions of robbing him of his food, made a 
f leap and tore open the intruder’s stomach. Thus 
| the covetousness of the hunter brought him 
to desti’uction, while the contentedness of the 
fox saved him from the same fate-—. 

Story XXV II. The Crow , the Wolf, the Jackal, 
i the Lion and the Camel. —A malicious crow, a 
I cunning wolf and a wily jackal lived together in 
the service of a lion, whose range was in a neigh- 
i bouring wood. A merchant’s camel, ovei’come by 
fatigue, had lagged behind, within the dreadful 
| limits of the forest. After a time, when partially 
J invigorated, he went about in search of pastur- 
; age, and came across the lion, whom he received 
/ with the greatest respect. The lion, also, very 
\ kindly enquired how he was, and with what in- 
| tention had he come. “As long as I knew not your 
\ majesty, I lived on the grass of the fields; now 
| that I have been honored with your acquaintance, 

J I am at your service, and ready to do what you 
( direct. ” “ Very good,” replied the lion, “ in my 
service, you may rest assured no evil will befal 
) you. ” In this way some time passed off. One day, 

\ the lion in one of his hunting excursions met 
| an elephant, who stood out to fight with him. 

\ Long and dreadful was the encounter. At last 
the lion was wounded and had to beat a retreat 
1 to his own quarters. The wolf, the crow and the 
\ jackal, who were all fed through his instrumen- 
i tality, now began to famish. As it is the case 
| with chiefs to feel more for the wants of their 
/ subordinates, than for their own, the lion was 
| much grieved at their distress, and told them to 
S look out for prey in the forest, and when found, 

| to inform him. He would go himself, he added, 
and hunt it down for them. Departing from the 
lion’s presence, they began consulting among 
themselves, that it would be better to destroy 
j the camel, whose dwelling there was productive 
} of no good to the lion, and with whom they had 
j no friendship. If the lion could be persuaded 
\ to destroy him, he, as well as they, would leisurely 
/ feed on his remains for a good many days. 

$ “Abandon such thoughts,” said the jackal, “the 
\ lion has promised him protection, and has favored 
f him with his friendship. Hd who persuades a 
( monarch to break his promise to a proteg6, is 
j faithless to his duty, and cursed both by God 
j and man”. “Think of some plan,” suggested 
i the crow, “whereby his majesty can recal his 
| promise.” “ Stop a bit,” he continued, “ I shall 
| come back in an instant.”—He went to the lion 
j and stood before him. “ Well, have you found a 
prey V’ “ Please your majesty,” replied the crow, 
“ hunger has made us blind, and weakness disables 
| us from moving about. But I have thought 




KHIRUD UFROZ. 


13 


of a plan; if you would agree to it, it would 
relieve us all from our distresses.” “ What is 
that plan ?” enquired the lion. “ The camel 
who feeds in the forest,” began the crow, “is 
a perfect stranger to us, and we derive no bene¬ 
fit from his stay. He is the prey we have 
found.” “Curses be on such ministers,” exclaim¬ 
ed the lion, enraged, “ whose thoughts run only 
on wickedness, and who have no lenity and 
generosity in their nature. Fool of a crow! 
knowest thou not that I have promised protection 
to him ?—And what religion sanctions faithless¬ 
ness and falsehood ?’’ “Protector of the world !” 
urged the crow, “ knowing that the wise have 
maintained that it is an act of wisdom to 
defend that which is right, I have presumed 
to represent matters to your majesty in their 
true light. Sages have said, that sacrifice for 
the defence of a city, or for the advantage 
of the sovereign is beneficial in the end, 
because on the king’s safety depends the 
prosperity of his subjects. If you have any 
scruple in regard to the violation of your pro¬ 
mise, it is imperative on us to devise some 
plans whereby the odium will be removed from 
you, at the same time that our own relief may 
be secured.” The lion bent his head, but said 
not a word. The crow joified his friends and 
recounted all the particulars to them. Where¬ 
upon they agreed to repair to the lion, and ask 
him to accept of their good will in his behalf, 
and to represent, that as they owed a debt of 
gratitude to his majesty, it was now a part of 
their duty, at a time when he himself was in 
distress, to come forward and sacrifice their 
lives in his service. The resolution they came 
to, was to request of him to feed on any 
one of them. By this means, they fancied 
they would succeed in entrapping their old 
foe, the camel. Acting upon this, they in 
a body went to the lion. The crow opened 
business thus:—“ My happiness is dependent 
upon yours, and in the present exigency it is 
by all means necessary that I should ask of 
you the favor not to spare me.” “ What satis¬ 
faction,” chimed in the others, “will his ma¬ 
jesty derive by eating you ?’’ The crow held his 
tongue. “ I,” said the jackal, “ have received 
many favours at your hand, and I only wish 
that fortune will aid me so far, as to destine 
me to become your prey.” “You are a well- 
wisher,” returned the rest, “and hence your re¬ 
quest ; but your flesh is by no means whole¬ 
some, and the king will be more harmed than 
benefited by feeding on you.” When the jackal 
had finished, the wolf preferred a similar re¬ 
quest, but his friends came forward, and 
opined that feeding on his flesh was detri¬ 
mental to health. The poor camel’s turn came 
the last. After blessing the king, he expressed 
himself willing to be of service to his majes¬ 
ty, to whom he was so highly indebted for past 
favors. “ Blessings on thee,” exclaimed his 
enemies, “for thy fidelity. Right it is what 


| thou sayest. Thy flesh will be highly relished 
j by thy sovereign, and every praise is due to 
| thee for thy courage in coming forward to 
| serve him with so much magnanimity. Thou 
t hast secured immortal fame for thyself in this 
! world.” Saying which, they attacked him in a 
j body, and tore him to pieces; the famished 
! lion being too weak either to check them, or to 
\ commend his faithful servant. 

' Story XXVIII.— The Male and Female Sand- 
| piper. —Many animals known as Sandpipers are 
' found on the banks of the rivers of India. A 
| pair of these occupied a home on the banks 
of one of these rivers. When breeding time 
approached, the female told the male that it was 
proper to look out for some place wherein she 
might deposit her eggs in safety. “ Where we 
are at present,” returned her partner, “is the 
best place for the purpose.” “ But,” returned 
j the female, “ if the river rise and carry off our 
j young ones, what shall we do?” “Rest you 
| satisfied,” replied the male, “the god of the 
j river will never be guilty of such an act of 
boldness, and if he does, we shall settle him.” 
\ “What I plainly see,” continued the female, 
| “is, that we need not be unreasonable in our cal¬ 
culations. If the river-god becomes overbold, 
| how can we retaliate on him ? Banish your 
j ideas of safety, and stick to my advice, other- 
\ wise you will prove the fate which befel the 
| tortoise.” 

Story XXIX.— The Drake, the Duck and the 
| Tortoise. —A pair of ‘ducks and a tortoise lived 
| in a pond. As neighbours, they had contracted 
j friendship for each other. The company of 
; the one was delightful to the other. A sudden 
j calamity befel them however, when the water 
i of the pond began to dry. The ducks had 
' nothing left but to exile themselves, and sad 
j and sorrowful, they repaired to the tortoise to 
| take leave of him. He, poor creature, wept at 
the intelligence, and declared that he was unable 
< to bear the pangs of separation. “ We also 
j suffer as much,” returned the birds, “ but we 
are powerless against the drought.” “Friends,” 
| said the tortoise, “ you know that want of water 
\ will be more injurious to me than to you. If 
j old acquaintance is not to be forgotten, take me 
\ with you, and thereby free me from the pains 
\ that absence will inflict.” “ The anguish we feel,” 
{ replied the birds, “ at parting from you, is more 
\ than that which afflicts us in leaving our native 
J country; but it is difficult for us to walk on the 
j ground, and impossible for you to fly. How 
then can we be together?” “Your own wisdom 
| must devise some means for the purpose, 
i for the thoughts of absence have made me per- 
j fectly dull.” The birds hereupon remarked that 
/ they had often found him too much given to 
j levity, and feared that he might not abide by 
f the instructions that they would give him. “ I 
j may have been light at one time,” said the 
/ tortoise, “ but now, when danger is impending, 
j you will not find me departing from the pro- 



14 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


mise I make.” The ducks then agreed to take ( 
him with them, on the conditions that when / 
they raised him aloft in the air, he would not j 
utter a single word ; and that when the eyes of j 
men fell upon them, he would not respond to ^ 
any remark which might be made by them, j 
“ Very well,” said the tortoise, “ I will obey 
your orders, and hold my tongue.” The ducks j 
brought a piece of wood which the tortoise held j 
between his teeth. They then each held one of 
its extremities in her and his bills, and winged^ j 
their flight on high. Passing over a city, a large® 
concourse of people beheld them, and filled with j 
astonishment, exclaimed, “ See ! see! a tortoise is 
being carried off by ducks.” The sight being j 
novel to them, the noise they made was awful j 
indeed. For a time the tortoise held his peace ; j 
at last, his folly getting the better of him, he j 
forgot the promise he had made, and opening ! 
his mouth was going to cry out, “ May they be ! 
blind who cannot see !” when down he dropped on j 
the ground. The ducks sorrowfully called out ; 
to him, “ It is proper for friends to advise, and j 
for the good to hear.”— \ 

Moral. He who neglects the advice of friends, j 
attempts his own destruction. . 1 

Story XXX.— The Monkeys and their Adviser, j 
In the cleft of a rock lived several monkeys. 
They fed on fruits. By chance in a dark night, j 
they were surprised by winter, and shivering j 
with cold, went about looking for some place j 
of shelter. Accidentally they came across a j 
shining cartridge, and taking it for fire, collect¬ 
ed wood round it, and commenced puffing, to ; 
kindle it into a blaze. Some animal from a tree i 
called out that cartridge was not fire ; but they 
heeded not his words. A man passing that way, j 
advised the adviser not to trouble himself by j 
counselling the monkeys—“For,” said he, “they 
will not hear you, and to court their friend- j 
ship is as wise as to examine a sword by J 
striking it on a rock, or to try to know the ; 
efficacy of bezoar stone by swallowing deadly j 
poison.” When the animal saw that the mon¬ 
keys did not hear him, he came down from j 
the tree to convince them that there was no ( 
fire in the cartridge. The result was that the 
monkeys cut off his head. 

Story XXXI.— The Two Friends and the Purse j 
of Gold. —There were two friends, one con- J 
sidered sharp on account of his wisdom, and / 
the other gay, for his superficiality. They both j 
went out to trade. In the way they found a j 
purse of gold-mohurs. “ Brother,” said the 
wiser of the two, “ the world has so much wealth, 
that she can afford to reward the idle. It is 
better for us now to return home contented, 
and pass the rest of our lives in ease.” They 
both turned their steps homewards. When 
near the city, they put up for the night in the j 
suburbs. “ Brother,” said the gay companion, j 
“let us divide the money equally, so that { 
each of us may spend his portion as he likes.” < 
The wise one answered, “ It is not advisable \ 


to divide. Let us take out a small sum and 
bring it to our common use; the rest should 
be deposited in a safe place, whence we can 
always draw when required. This will save 
us from calamities.” The gay friend agreed to 
the proposition, and taking a small sum for 
immediate use, they buried the rest under a 
tree, and returned home. At night-fall, the 
wiser of the two came back, and removed the 
whole of the treasure to his own house. The 
merry-hearted friend was for a long time satis¬ 
fied with the amount he had received : when 
all was exhausted, he thought of drawing on 
the treasure under ground. His friend joined 
him: they both proceeded to the well-known 
place, but in spite of all their search, no trace 
of the money could they find. The wiser of 
the two hereupon arrested the other, and 
charged him with the theft, declaring that none 
but he knew the place where the purse was 
buried. It was a case of a thief impeaching 
the chief officer of police. In spite of all his 
oaths and protestations to the contrary, he, was 
not believed, but taken before the magistrate, 
and charged with the robbery. That officer 
shrewdly perceived how the case stood, and 
after requiring the plaintiff to produce witnesses, 
said he would take the deposition on oath of the 
defendant. The complainant represented that 
there were no persons present when the trea¬ 
sure was inhumed ; but still for all that, he was 
so sure of the justice of his cause, that if depu¬ 
ties were sent with him, and he went there and 
prayed to God, it was probable that the Almigh¬ 
ty would have mercy on him, and make the tree 
give up the name of the thief. After a long 
conference, they at last determined to go next 
morning to the place where the treasure was 
buried, and see what wonders would come to 
light. The merry-hearted friend was sent to 
prison, while the other went home, disclosed all 
the particulars to his father, declared that he 
depended on him for assistance, and requested 
of him to aid in making the tree publish the 
name of the thief. If successful, he added, the 
money robbed, together with the fine which the 
defendant will be ordered to pay, would enable 
them to live happily thenceforward. The father 
wished to know what he was to do. “ The tree 
in question,” said his son, “is hollow, and two 
men can unperceived hide themselves in it. 
This night you go and remain in the hollow of 
its trunk, to-morrow I shall come with the 
magistrate’s deputies, and after prayers will call 
on the tree to name the thief. You can then 
return a suitable response, whereby that gay- 
hearted friend of mine may be implicated.” 
“Son,” re’turned the father, “ leave such thoughts 
aside. Supposing we can deceive man ; God who 
knows all the secrets of our hearts can never 
be deceived. The treacherous and fraudulent 
are sure to be punished even here. The rich 
and the poor will scorn him alike, and infamy is 
the lot reserved for him.” 




KHIRUD UFROZ. 


15 


Story XXXII.— The Frog, the Serpent, the Crab ] 
and the Ichneumon. A frog lived near the hole 
of a serpent, who was always in the habit of des¬ 
troying her young. She happened to know a crab 
to whom she spoke, saying:—“Friend, devise 
some means to rid me of a powerful foe whom 
I cannot overcome; nor can I leave my native 
country because it is so agreeable.” “ Do not 
fear,” returned the crab; “ though the enemy 
is strong, still we can entrap him by cunning.” 

“ Tell me what I am to do,” said the Frog. 

“ In such a place,” continued the other, “ there 
lives an ichneumon. Kill a certain number of 
fishes, and place them on the way which leads to 
the serpent’s hole. The ichneumon will go on 
eating one after the other, till he will reach the 
serpent and make an end of him also.” The 
frog did as desired, and the serpent was killed ; 
but the ichneumon having once tasted fish, re¬ 
turned the next day to the same place in hopes 
of getting more. Not finding any, he fell on 
the frog and her young ones, and ate them up. 

Moral. The cunniug are entrapped in their 
own snares. 

Story XXXIII.— The Gardener and the Bear .— 

A foolish gardener had contracted friendship with 
a bear. In gardens or fields they were always 
seen together. The shaggy brute also had be¬ 
come so fond of his companion, that when he 
(the man) slept, the other would sit down and 
drive away the flies from his face. One day the 
flies were very numerous. The bear tried his 
best to hunt them away from his sleeping com¬ 
panion’s face, but to no purpose. When dis¬ 
persed from one side, they would re-assemble, 
and return from another. The bear much en¬ 
raged at their pertinacity, took up a large stone 
and flung it on the gardener’s face in hopes of 
crushing the flies ; but which only served to 
crack the skull of the poor fellow. 

Story XXXIV.— The two Friends and the 
Deposit. —A tradesman of broken fortune having 
had occasion to go on a journey, deposited a 
hundred maunds of iron in a friend’s house to 
take it back when required. After long travels 
he returned home, and went to get back his 
deposit. The friend, who had in the meantime 
sold off the whole store, said “Brother! I 
kept the iron you gave me in a corner of the 
house, not knowing that a rat’s hole was there. 
By the time I came to know of the fact, these 
destructive creatures had eaten up all.” The 
tradesman knew this could not be true; still, 
while he was thinking of some plan to detect 
the thief, he repeated to himself, “ Well, it 
looks possible. Rats are very partial to iron, 
and their teeth can chew it well too.” The liar 
seeing that the merchant was so easily gull¬ 
ed, tried to make matters stronger, and invited , 
him to a feast. The other excused himself that day, / 
on the plea of business, promising to come on the j 
morrow. He then departed, and quietly carried off \ 
the youngest son of his host, whom he hid in his j 
own house. The next morning he found his j 


friend very sad. “ Brother,” he asked, “ why do 
I see you disturbed ?” “ My youngest son, the 
pride and delight of my life, and the light of 
my eyes,” replied the other, “ is missing from 
yesterday. I have looked for him every where ; 
but to no purpose.” “Oh—I remember now,” 
said the merchant, “ a child, much like the one 
you are speaking about, was seen by me yester¬ 
day being carried off by a sparrow-hawk.” 
“Fool!” exclaimed the afflicted parent, “why 
relate impossible stories. How can a sparrow- 
hawk fly away with a child T “ It is a matter 
of no surprise,” said the tradesman, smiling, 
“where rats eat a hundred maunds of iron, 
sparrow-hawks can take away children too.” 
The man guessed how matters stood. “ Rats 
did not eat iron,” he said. “ Well then,” 
returned the other, “ neither did a sparrow-hawk 
take away thy child. Give me back my iron, 
and I shall restore thee thy child. 

Story XXXV.— The hungry Fox. —A hungry 
fox was roaming about in search of prey, when 
| all on a sudden she smelt some dainty, and ran 
J towards it. She found a bit of skin lying, the 
flesh having been eaten up by some other animal. 

I The sight cheered her, and brightening up, she 
| caught hold of the skin and ran homewards. In 
the way she had to pass a village, where she 
beheld a few fat fowls feeding, and a slave, 

! Zeeruk by name, watching them. The fox felt 
| desirous of trying to get one of the birds. In 
I the meanwhile a wolf came up and enquired 
| why his sister appeared so sorrowful. “ Brother,” 

\ she answered, “ I am very hungry, and God has 
( granted me but this piece of skin. I am there- 
| fore desirous to get one of these fowls, and feast 
\ on it to-day.” “ But it is not easy to surprise 
them,” returned the other. “ I have been daily 
j trying to get one ; but to no purpose. The boy 
j who looks after them is very vigilant, and I have 
nothing left but to live longing for one, night 
| and day. Be content with the fresh skin that 
j you have come across, and forego all thoughts of 
i getting a bird.” “Brother,” said the fox, “my 
! courage will not allow me to live on a tasteless 
! bit of hide. I must have fresh meat.” “Fool 
J that thou art,” replied the wolf, “ dost thou call 
\ covetousness, courage 1 Knowest thou not 
! that happiness is found in contentment 1 I am 
j afraid thy greediness will deprive thee of even 
| what thou hast got.” 

Story XXXVI.— The Ass who lost his tail —An 
ass who had lost his tail was running about 
every where in search of it. At last he entered 
a field. The farmer, seeing the mischief he was 
making, ran after him and cut of both his ears. 
The poor ass thus not only failed in getting back 
his tail, but lost his ears in the bargain. 

Story XXXVII.— The Revealer of Secrets 
punished. —Iu ancient times there lived a king, 
who on account of his worldliness was no friend 
of wise men: but mean, vile wretches, flatterers 
and parasites always found favor with him. One 
of these companions was his especial confidant. 




16 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


One day they were out hunting. When near their 
tents, the king asked his companion to make their 
horses run a race ; “ For,” said he, “I am very 
desirous of knowing whether my dark bay, or 
thy white horse, is the swifter of the two.” 
The other did as desired, and they both went 
dashing forward, until they had left the park far 
behind them. The monarch then drew in his 
reins, and opening his mouth, “ Brother,” he said 
to the other, “ I had an object in bringing thee 
here : I wanted a retired place like this to trust 
thee with a secret; but take care never disclose 
it to any one.” The companion, like a true ras¬ 
cal, swore he would never open his mouth. 
“ Well then,” said the king, “ I suspect my bro¬ 
ther. I see he is disaffected, and I am sure he 
has determined to kill me : but before he can 
carry out his plans, I wish to remove him from 
my path, and thus save my kingdom from fall¬ 
ing into his hands. Be you always vigilant, and 
look to my safety.” “ Who am I,” returned his 
companion, “ to be honored with your confidence 1 
But as your majesty has trusted me, be sure 
that I shall not be wanting in my duty.” While 
yet speaking, he had already resolved to betray 
his master, and the very first opportunity offer¬ 
ing itself, he went and disclosed all to the king’s 
brother, who was much obliged to him for the 
news, rewarded him handsomely, and promised 
to bear his claims on him in mind. Now it hap¬ 
pened that the king was hot fated to live 
long. His brother gained the throne in suc¬ 
cession, and the first order he passed was 
one for the execution of his brother’s con¬ 
fidant. “ Is this the return for my good 
wishes in your favor ?” asked the poor fellow. 
“There is no crime,” replied the king, “so 
heinous in this world as revealing secrets, and 
you have been found guilty of that crime. 
When you hesitated not to betray my brother, 
whose confidant you were, what trust can I 
place in you 1” In short, all the entreaties of 
the condemned proved fruitless, and he was 
executed. 

Moral. Revealing secrets never produce good 
fruits. 

Story XXXVIII .—The King and the Ascetic. 
A devout king waited upon an ascetic, and 
begged of him to give him some advice. “ King,” 
said the man of God, “before the Divinity 
there are two worlds, one, this temporary 
visible one, and the other, the everlasting and 
invisible. It befits the wise not to be immers¬ 
ed in the vanity of the one, but to devote all 
their attention to the concerns of the other.” 
“ But how am I to be acquainted with the 
mysteries of the last?” enquired the king. 
“ Give not way to lust and anger,” returned the 
hermit, “ forego luxury, and night and day help 
the humble, and redress the grievances of the 
oppressed. He who wishes to please God, will 
gain an eternal reward in the other world. 
But to secure such a prize, it is necessary to 
help the poor and to punish tyrants, because 


\ God has appointed kings to watch over the 
| safety of their subjects, and hence it is incum¬ 
bent on rulers not to let a day or a night pass 
} without attending to their wants, lest any one of 
| them should come to distress on account of his 
\ negligence. Monarch,” continued the sage, 
| “ there are persons who hesitate to speak right, 
I fearing that they may be injured thereby. Wise 
I is that prince, who in his wish to do good to his 
; subjects, gives no ground to his ministers to 
\ withhold the truth. If humanity errs, as err 
; it will sometimes, far be it from the king to 
\ deny the right of hearing and redressing the 
; wrong done.” The ascetic’s words pleased the king 
j very much. Thenceforward he avoided flatterers 
and availed himself of the company of the 
5 holy man, from whose instructions he derived a 
\ great deal of benefit. One day as he was sit- 
! ting near him, a crowd of applicants, seeking 
j justice, ijaade their appearance. The king desir- 
| ed the devotee to attend to their complaints. 

\ He did as desired, and wisely laid a synopsis 

! of each complaint before his majesty, who ap¬ 
proving of his penetration, requested of him 
to decide cases of a similar nature, and thus 
assist him (the king). From that day, there¬ 
fore, the ascetic was every moment engaged iu 
hearing the complaints that were laid before 
| him, and often it happened that the public in- 
| terest was benefited by his right dealings, 
j Daily was he engaged in political and reve- 
| nue matters, till at last avarice assailed his 
| heart and the voice of wisdom was neglected. 
This world—whom has she not fascinated P Few 
there are who have escaped her wiles. When 
! the king saw that his friend’s measures were 
! characterised by sense and vigour, he entrusted 
\ him with full powers, so that he who had at 
\ one time a loaf of bread to care for, was now 
\ concerned in the administration of a kingdom ; 
j —he who had ouce to arrange but a blanket, 
j had now to guide and direct the affairs of an 
} empire. One day another hermit, who was a 
\ friend and confidant of our prime-minister, 
paid him a visit, and found the state of things 
to be in a strange plight. Much surprised, he 
asked of his brother what he was doing. Much 
as the other wished to excuse himself, he was 
j unable to do so. “ Avarice and self-aggrandise- 
! ment,” said the hermit, “ have wrecked thy rea- 
| son, and hence it is that lust and anger have 
| overpowered thee. Better it is now to abandon 
| thy evil habits, to purify thyself from the 
i alloy of worldliness, and to close the door of 
\ intercourse against the children of vanity.” 

\ “ But, dear friend,” remonstrated the hermit, 
i “ intercourse with the world has not changed 
I me in the least. What I always was, I am 
\ now, and thou knowest this well.” “ The eyes 
| of thy wisdom,” returned the other, “ are, I 
( see, closed for ever. No means canst thou find 
| to extricate thyself, and when thine eyes will 
\ be opened it will be too late. I am afraid you 
< will meet with the same fate which befel the 





KHIRUD TJFROZ. 


17 


blind man, who could not distinguish a whip j 
from a snake. 

Story XXXIX.— The Faqir. In a city of \ 
Persia there lived a holy faqir, whom the people 
gave credit for great purity and enlightenment. A \ 
durwesh hearing of his sanctity was filled with a \ 
strong desire of seeing him, and came on a long i 
journey for the purpose. Knocking at the door, j 
he was told by the servant that the master of ! 
the house had gone on a visit to the reigning i 
sovereign, but that he would return presently, j 
As soon as the word “king” was mentioned, j 
the durwesh shook his head. “Vain has been the j 
trouble I have taken, ” he said. “ Wjiat advantage 
can I gain from one who visits kings. He re- I 
turned thence, and was retracing his steps, abus¬ 
ing the faqir in his blindness, when some spies ! 
meeting him on the way, professed to identify \ 
him with a prisoner who had escaped from the 
jail overnight, and who was ordered to be de¬ 
prived of his hands the moment he was recaptur¬ 
ed. The policeman too on seeing the durwesh, 
thought of the daring run-away, and ordered him S 
to be taken to the chastisement-room. Though the 
faqir was loud in declaring himself innocent, yet I 
he was not for a moment believed. When the ex- j 
ecutioner was on the point of cutting off his hands, i 
. a loud report, to the effect that the holy man was j 
coming, filled the room. And true it was. Ac¬ 
companied by his disciples he entered, enquired j 
into the circumstances of the case, and then \ 
turning to the policeman, informed him that the \ 
prisoner was no thief, but a durwesh. The officer 
was glad to hear he was not guilty, and begged j 
of the holy man to pardon him. Freed from j 
the executioner, the poor durwesh went after his i 
patron, who laying his hand on his shoulder ad¬ 
dressed him thus:—“ Brother ! a durwesh should 
avoid no one,—kings are the chosen of God. j 
They are His representatives here below, and to ! 
know and serve them.is to honor and serve Him j 
whom they represent. I have always greatly > 
benefited by knowing them, for if I was not j 
acquainted with them, how could I free the op¬ 
pressed and innocent like thyself?” The hearer j 
was convinced of his folly, and acknowledged | 
that what saints do is never wrong. 

Moral. It is for purposes of beneficence that j 
the good and the saintly hold intercourse with i 
kings. | 

Story XL. —The Merchant and his unfaithful 
Wife. —In Cashmere there lived a merchant, very ; 
rich, owning numerous slaves. His wife was ex- J 
tremely pretty. In the neighbourhood resided a j 
painter, between whom and the woman a secret ; 
correspondence was being carried on. One day the j 
woman told him, “ Dear, when you do come, i 
I am not apprised of it until you call me out, ; 
or throw stones inside. This necessarily causes 
delay. Couldn’t you call your art to your aid, ; 
and devise some plans which would facilitate our j 
intercourse?” “Well, I shall prepare a sheet,” j 
replied her lover, “ half as white as the reflection j 
of the stars in the water, and the other half J 


black as a negro in a moon-light night. ' When¬ 
ever you see this, come out at once.” Whilst 
they were thus conversing the painter’s slave was 
overhearing all from the other side of the wall. 
After a few days the sheet was ready; when the 
painter departed on some business, which de¬ 
tained him for a day and night. The wily slave, 
with a plea of admiring the colors laid on the 
sheet, borrowed it from the painter’s daughter, 
and folding himself up in it repaired to the 
woman’s house. She, who was blindly attached to 
the painter, could not distinguish friends from 
strangers. The slave by means of his disguise suc¬ 
ceeded in his wish; but just as he had returned 
from the scene of his triumph, the painter came 
home, and throwing on the sheet hastened to the 
merchant’s house. The woman came out run¬ 
ning and said in a cajoling tone of voice : “Come 
again so soon!—I hope all’s right.” The young 
man guessing how matters stood,excused himself, 
returned home, chastised both his daughter and 
his slave, burnt the sheet, and never knew his 
mistress again. If that woman had been less 
precipitate, she would not have been dishonor¬ 
ed by a slave and renounced by her lover. 

Story XLI.— The three envious Friends. 
Three persons were travelling together. The 
eldest asked the other two “ Why have you left 
the enjoyments of your native country to undergo 
all the fatigues of travel ?” “ In the city where 
I lived,” replied one, “ my friends and relations 
acquired wealth and were living happily. I 
envied their enjoyments, and therefore made 
up my mind to leave home for some time, so 
that I may see them no more.” “ And I,” pur¬ 
sued the second, “ have expatriated myself for a 
similar reason.” “Well then,” said the eldest, 
“ I sympathise with you, for I too am travel¬ 
ling for a similar purpose.” In short the vices of 
all three cemented their friendship for each 
other. One day they found a purse of goldmo- 
hurs in the way. The three wished to divide 
the sum amongst themselves and return home ; 
but each envying the other, wished to have the 
whole sum himself. Not one knew how to act. 
To leave the money alone was impossible, and to 
divide it was equally painful to the feelings of 
each. For a day and night they remained there 
without food and water, quarrelling with each 
other. On the next day the king, who had gone 
out a hunting, passed that way, and beholding 
the three, approached them in company of his 
attendants, and asked what they were doing there. 
They explained. “ Each of you describe the na¬ 
ture of his envious feelings,” said the king, “ I 
shall divide the money according to the intensi¬ 
ty thereof. “I,” said the first, “am so envi¬ 
ous, that I do not wish to oblige others, lest they 
may be gratified.” “Mine,” continued the second, 
is a degree higher, “ I cannot see any one oblig¬ 
ing, nor giving any thing to another.” “ I ” pur¬ 
sued the third, “ beat you both hollow: I am so 
envious that I do not wish any one should oblige 
me.” The king was much astonished at the state 

S’ 




18 


KHIRUD IJFROZ. 


of their feelings. “Not one of you,” he said, j 
“ deserves the gold-mohurs. I shall on the con- ) 
trary punish you severally. He who does not j 
wish to oblige others, is to go without money, j 
and no one is to do good to him. The second, who j 
cannot see others obliging, should be executed; 
and the third, his own enemy, who does not wish j 
any one to oblige him, is to be kept in prison un- j 
til he dies.” The first was then stripped and left ; 
in a forest without food, the head of the second / 
was cut off; and the third was besmeared with \ 
tar and cast into an oven, where he died in the j 
most excruciating agony. j 

Moral. —Know from this that there are per¬ 
sons who are so envious that they cannot see j 
their own good: how then can they bear to see j 
others happy? j 

Story XL1I .—The wise and foolish Physicians. ] 
A person with no judgment and foresight set $ 
himself up as physician. His ignorance pro- j 
duced its results, and more were daily killed i 
than cured. A wise physician lived in the same 
city, so famous for success in his practice, that 
his very presence restored confidence in any ) 
patient. By and by the latter became old and [ 
blind, his practice failed, and the quack had all ] 
to himself. After a time, he was the only phy- > 
sician left, and people had nothing but to consult j 
him in all cases of disease. It happened that 
the daughter of the king of that country, a very 
handsome creature, was married to a cousin of 
hers. She was far advanced in pregnancy, and 
when her time came, the pains of child-birth 
were more than she could bear. The wise phy- \ 
sician was called and consulted. He prescribed \ 
certain medicines which he thought would act as ' 
an anodyne. “ But where are these drugs to be \ 
got ?” they asked. “ In the king’s Dispensary,” ' J 
he said, “ they are kept in a silver casket, to which j 
a gold lock is attached. My sight fails me, hence 
1 cannot search for it.” The people then brought 
in the quack, and told him what the other doctor ) 
had prescribed, upon which he declared that his ! 
rival was an ignorant pretender, and had learnt f 
the remedy from himself. He moreover express- j 
ed himself ready to look for the medicine and | 
prepare the dose. The king called him to his j 
presence, and bade him go get the medicine he 
required from the Dispensary, and prepare the i 
dose prescribed. But when the quack found | 
himself within the building, he saw innumerable i 
caskets all of the same shape and size as that j 
mentioned by the wise physician. As he had \ 
no discrimination to judge of the contents of \ 
each, he took up one at hazard, which unfortu- { 
nately contained deadly poison. The dose was 
prepared and administered to the patient, who 
died the moment it was laid on her tongue. The 
king was enraged at the occurrence, and ordered 
the remaining doses to be thrust down the throat 
of the quack, who thus met the fruits of his false 
pretensions. 

Story XLIII.— The Merchant, his wife and 
wicked /Slave. —A merchant, rich and noble, 


lived at a time. He had a wife, very hand¬ 
some, but at the same time modest and devout; 
also a slave, a native of Bulkh, a confirmed 
libertine, who attended on him. One day by 
chance the slave’s eyes fell on the merchant’s 
wife. Impure desires at once assailed him, 
and many were the charms and incantations 
he tried to gain her over to his purpose; but 
all in vain. Despairing, at last he determined 
to play some tricks. He bought two parrots 
from a bird-catcher,, and taught them some 
words in the language of Bulkh. One uttered 
“ I saw my mistress sleeping with the porter,” 
to which the other responded, “ But I say no¬ 
thing to it.” These" birds he presented to his 
master. They began chirping and repeating the 
words taught. The merchant, though he did 
not know the Bulkhee language, was still highly 
delighted with their sweet notes, and gave 
them to his wife to bring them up. She was 
ignorant of the tongue, and liked the parrots 
much. The man would often send for them 
and hear their talk. One day several travellers 
who understood the Bulkhee dialect arrived and 
heard what the birds were repeating. They 
looked at each other, and beat their heads 
through shame. The host observed them, and 
asked why they appeared disturbed. The guests 
tried to put off the explanation, but could not. 
At last the boldest of them asked, “ Do you 
know what these birds say?” “No,” said the 
merchant, “I cannot understand what they say, 
but I like their notes. If you can explain the 
meaning, let us hear.” They explained. The 
merchant rose in rage. “Friends,” he said, 
“I knew this not. Now when you have dis¬ 
closed the meaning, there is no excuse left. 
In my city we cannot take food if a vicious 
woman is in the house.” Hereupon the slave 
came forward and said he could testify to the 
truth of what the birds .had said. The mer¬ 
chant ordered his wife’s head to be cut off. The 
woman sent word to the effect that it was not 
proper, in a case like this, to act precipitately. 
The wise always pause before they come to a 
resolution, particularly in matters relating to 
life and death; for if any one really deserves 
death, he can suffer it at any time; but if 
after he has been executed, his innocence is 
proved, what can be done ? Regret we will, but 
of what avail will that be ?” Here the merchant 
sent for his wife. She came and sat behind a 
screen. The husband opened the case thus. 
“ Parrots are not men to be interested in any mat¬ 
ter. What they have seen they say; and besides 
the slave corroborates the truth of their state¬ 
ment : the crime is too serious, and too well estab¬ 
lished, and cannot be pardoned after a verbal de¬ 
nial.” “ I admit the truth of what you say,” 
retunied his wife, “but proofs are required. After 
j which, if I am guilty, I am ready to undergo any 
I punishment.” “ But how can we adduce proofs ?” 
| enquired the merchant. “ Ask your guests,” 
\ said the woman, “ to see if the birds can utter 



KHIRUD UFROZ. 


19 


* 


any thing else. If not, be sure that that scoundrel ! the snare.” They did as told, and the bird-catcher 
of a slave, failing in his attempts on my honor, ; had to run after them. The crow who was a si- 
has taught just those words to the birds; but ; lent spectator of all that had happened, now wish- 
if yes, I am at your service, and my execu- ; ed to see how this ended. Kemembering there- 
tion will be right.” The merchant after closely fore,that the wise can always take a warning from 
enquiring into the particulars, found that the , the fate of others, he followed them. In’the way 
birds could not say any thing more. He knew \ the leader advised them to turn to gardens and 
then that the woman was innocent. The slave ' populous parts of the city, and thus escape from 
was sent for. _ Expecting a reward, he appeared ) their pursuer's sight. He succeeded in this also, 
with a hawk in his hand. “Wretch!” asked \ The man,losing sight of them, returned home, and 
the woman, “ did you ever see me doing a guilty > they had time to think of their deliverance from 
action !” “ Yes,” he replied ; but just that ) the snare. Their guide thought of a rat, Zeeruk 
moment the hawk pounced upon him and peck- > by name, with whom he was well acquainted, and 
ed out his eyes. “He who accuses the innocent,” > who alone, he knew, would be able to assist them, 
observed the woman, “ should be punished in > They alighted therefore in a desert where the 
this way.” Thus it was that the wicked slave ; rat resided. Hearing the voice of Mottawukka, 
received his reward. $ he emerged from his hole, and seeing his friend 

Moral. Groundless scandal and false evidence, 5 in difficulty enquired how it was that he, so wise 
lead to shame. \ and prudent, had got into it. The other gave 

Stoky XLIV .—The Crow , the Pigeons and > all the particulars, and added, “ Thus it is ; but 
the Huntsman .—There was a delightful field in \ what God willed has been done. ’Tis He who 
Gashmere, full of trees, on one of which a crow ; can make the fish fly and the bird drop on the 
was sitting, looking on all sides, when he beheld \ ground.” “ Friend !” said Zeeruk, “cheer up ! 
a man approaching with a net on his shoulders > “ whatever Providence does is all for our good.” 
and a stick in his hand. The crow, fearing the > After these words, the rat set about cutting the 
man had intentions on him, hid himself among snare in which Mootawukka was entrapped, but 
the leaves, and thence looked on what was pass- | he resisted, saying that his friends should be 
ing. The bird-catcher came, spread his snare, j first served. The rat continued his work, when 
and placed grains on it. Immediately after this, \ he was thus addressed, “Zeeruk! if you want to 
a whole flock of pigeons, led on by an old ex- \ gratify me, first oblige by releasing my friends.” 
perienced bird named Mottawukka, made its > “Well,” said the other, “it appears that you do 
appearance. The birds were all hungry, and ran ] not much care for yourself. How can I leave 
towards the grains. The leader, with all the ; the leader and attend to the others?” “ Blame 
kindness and consideration of a guide, bade them ; me not,” replied the other, “but do what I tell 
pause; “For” said he, “ snares are generally laid \ you. The pigeons have served and obliged me, 
with grains of corn spread upon them.” Their \ and I have been saved by their promptness in 
reason, however was blinded, and the more that the > heeding me. I now owe a debt to them, which 
old bird advised them to be cautious, the more j I wish to pay off as soon as I can, and thus main- 
eagerly they rushed on. The adviser here thought \ tain the character of a leader. The wisdom of 
that if he were,to leave them it would be acting / the world has declared, that kings who look after 
faithlessly, and if he followed he was intentionally > enjoyments, and leave their subjects in distress, 
going into destruction. Abandoning all ideas of s are soon deprived of their kingdom and plunged 
the first, he remembered that if he remained ) into difficulties. I wish therefore that they 
with them, he might yet be the means of releasing > should be released first.” “ As the soul is to the 
them from danger. They all descended, and were j body,” observed the rat, “ so the king is to his 
at once entrapped. “I told you,” exclaimed \ subjects. The wise therefore take more care of the 
the leader, “ not to be precipitate. If you had ] former: if the soul is safe, and the body not in- 
taken time and considered, all would have gone > jured—all right! but if, (God forbid !) the soul is 
well.” The pigeons were ashamed, and remained > lost, of what use is the body ?” “ Cease, cease,” said 
struggling in the net. The bird-catcher emerged > the leader of the pigeons, “ you have much to do. 
from his place of concealment and ran towards j If you begin with me, and get tired, many of 
them. The moment they saw him, they all | my friends will be left in the lurch; whereas if 
fluttered in a body to rise. “Deaf to my ad- < they are all freed, and I alone remain in the snare, 
vice,” cried out Mottawukka, “you have been \ you will free me in spite of weariness and fatigue.” 
entrapped. Now, instead of each trying to free > The rat praised the magnanimity of the pigeon, 
himself, if all tried to free each other success j and first freed his friends, and then him. Gladly 
would be more probable. Your case is like that ; they all departed home. The crow, who had 
of the two friends who were wrecked. The boat- j seen these proceedings, now wished to be ac- 
man jumped after them, and knowing that it was ' quainted with the serviceable rat; for said he, 
impossible to Save both tried to give assistance > “ What has happened to the pigeons may happen 
to one of them. But each refused aid, wishing i to me also, and then such a friend is of the 
the boatman to go to the aid of the other. And greatest service in the world.” Approaching the 
so now, if you do wish to assist your friends, > hole of the rat, he called him by name. *The 
let all try to fly; perhaps we may be able to lift \ rat wished to know who he was. “ I am a crow,” 




20 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


% 


was the answer, “ and I want to see you on ) 
business.” The rat was a wise fellow. He knew j 
the world well, and had several recesses ready >, 
against dark days. As soon as he heard the t 
voice of the crow, he wished to know what the 
bird had to do with him, and at the same time ! 
was ready for immediate flight. The crow in- j 
formed him that he had been a silent spectator j 
of the release of the pigeons, and was very 
desirous of knowing their deliverer. He hoped \ 
he would not slight his request, but honor him ) 
with his friendship. The rat returned “ Can \ 
we contract friendship, when acquaintance even j 
is impossible ? Thy desire to be on terms of love j 
with me is as wise as to wish a boat to move 
on dry ground, or a horse to run on the surface \ 
of the river.” “ But I am sincere in my wish,” 
returned the crow, “ do not disappoint me. The j 
generous never spurn a suppliant from their j 
doors.” “ Crow,” said the rat, “ leave artifice j 
aside. I know your nature. You belong not to the j 
family I do, and besides this, you are notorious 
for deceit. I shall never be for a moment secure 
in your friendly company ; and to contract ac- J 
quaintance with one of whom you are afraid, is \ 
but to wish to realise the fate of the Partridge, j 
Story XLY. —The Partridge and the Hawk, ; 
A Partridge was walking about in a valley when j 
a hawk beheld him, and was filled with admi- < 
ration of his beauty, and the graceful manner in f 
which he walked. Sages, he thought, have said, 
“He who is friendless is always sick.” Deter- j 
mined he was therefore to know the partridge, i 
Approaching him, he was on the point of open- 
ing conversation, when the bird misconstruing 
his designs flew off into the cleft of a rock. \ 
The hawk followed her to the fissure and said, j 
“I knew not your good qualities before; but j 
now I cannot live without knowing you. Be not J 
afraid of me but come out.” “Brave bird,” repli¬ 
ed the other’, “ give up all thoughts of me, and > 
make some other creature your prey. What has 
straw to do with fire? When fire and water can ] 
agree, then I can give up my fears of you.” “But,” j 
pursued the hawk, “I am not old nor weak, J 
to have recourse to artifice for eptrapping you. j 
My talons and bills are not injured, so as to dis- } 
able me from holding my prey. Nothing but kind- j 
ness and a desire of company have led me to sue j 
for friendship. Open the eyes of wisdom; make j 
a proper distinction between affection and guile, 
and come out that I may see you. I shall do ( 
all that you will tell me, and in many ways will 
you be benefited by knowing me. First, you J 
will get rid of all the cares of this world; and j 
secondly, when the birds will know that you are i 
my friend, they will honor and respect you, 
place confidence in your words; and when you 
will look for a partner, you will get one easily, 
so that your race will increase, and you will gain 
your ends every where.” The partridge, now a j 
little assured, answered, “You are a princely j 
bir^ and I a poor common creature liable to err. j 
When I shall fail to please you at some time, [ 


what then shall my fate be, but to be destroyed 
by you? Better it is then to live apart even 
from to-day, and forego the friendship of the 
great, which is rather dangerous.” “Friend,” 1 
cried the other, “ what you say is true, kings 
and princes are generally selfishly busy in their 
own luxurious concerns, and pay no regard to 
their subjects, nor make any distinction between 
the good and the bad. They never pardon their 
inferiors; but when I shall become your friend. 
I shall be blind to all your faults ; and even 
when I shall notice any of these, it will only be 
to hide it from others, and to rectify them ; not 
to put you to any trouble, for such a course of 
proceeding is not friendly.” Although the par¬ 
tridge brought several other reasons against 
their friendship, yet the hawk met all with pro¬ 
per answers, until at last the former left her 
place of shelter and came out. Vows of eternal 
affection were then exchanged between them. 
After this they lived in one nest. When years 
had elapsed, the partridge lost all fear of the 
hawk, behaved freely and unceremoniously, and 
laughed aloud. This the latter did not like; 
but still he would say nothing. When old age 
came on, and he could not prey, he longed to 
feast on his friend, and all his malevolence 
reviving, he only sought for a pretext to carry 
his wish into effect. The partridge coming to a 
knowledge of this, wept; said that they who 
intentionally cast themselves into danger, must 
put up with a fate like his, but at the same time 
tried by all means to please the hawk, and give 
him no ground for destroying him. The hawk 
also took notice of this, till at last, one night, 
when he could help himself no longer, he called 
out:—“ Is it proper that I should be in the sun¬ 
shine and you remain in the shade ?” “ Prince,” 
answered the partridge, “ how can this be, when 
it is night just now ?” “ Then do you think me 
a liar ?” called out the other, and immediately 
tore the partridge to pieces. 

Moral. Friendship with one of whom you 
are in continual fear, is unwise, and generally 
ends in destruction. 

Story XLYJ.— The Camel-Driver and the Ser¬ 
pent. —A camel-driver arrived in a forest, whence 
a company of merchants had passed. In the stove 
they had prepared was left fire, which being 
blown about had set the wood ablaze. In it was a 
large serpent, who could not find any channel 
of escape. Seeing the camel-driver at a distance, 
he called out, and begged to be saved from the 
danger. The man knew very well that snakes 
were not to be trusted; but at the same time 
he thought that at a moment like the present, 
all malice should be laid aside. Attaching 
then a bag to a spear, he held it to the snake, 
who immediately came into it, and was saved. 
The camel-driver released him from the bag, 
and advised him not to be the foe of man 
any longer.—" Do not say so,” he returned, “ I 
depart not until I have stung you and your ca¬ 
mel. “ Is the reward of good evil?” asked the 



KHIRUD UFROZ. 


21 


camel-driver. “Yes,” returned the other, “you 
know I am the foe of man. Your service there¬ 
fore was wrong, your kindness uncalled for. 
It is necessary for me to do evil to thee, for to 
serve the wicked, as you have done, is tantamount 
to persecuting the good; and the wise are of 
opinion, that the head of a foe should be crushed. 
Now as you have acted foolishly and saved me, 
I shall sting you, that it may serve as a warning 
to the rest.” “To do evil for good,” said the 
man, “is not sanctioned by any religion.” 
“ But I am acting on your own principles,” said 
the snake, “ you always do evil for good, and 
call that wisdom. I have learned the lesson 
from you, and I shall act according to what has 
been taught me.” “ God forbid! that men 
should act on such principles,” said the man. 
“ Attempt my life if you wish; but do not im¬ 
pute such blame to mankind.” “ What I say is 
true,” persisted the serpent. “If you do not 
believe me, ask yonder buffaloe.” When re¬ 
ferred to, the buffaloe replied, “ Men do evil for 
good ; but the wise just the reverse. For in¬ 
stance, take my case into consideration. I have 
been domesticated with men, bred there, and 
given them milk and butter in abundance, and 
when I am old and unable to bring forth, my food 
is stopped and I am left to wander about in this 
desert alone. God, however, provides for me, 
and it was only yesterday that my former 
master saw me, and finding me plump and fat, 
-came to the resolution of selling me to a butch¬ 
er. Now see, he has eventually resolved on 
sacrificing me, and this after the long service I 
have rendered him.” “ You hear what has been 
said,” cried the serpent; “ prepare yourself for 
death at once.” “ But,” said the camel-driver, 
“ the buffaloe is prejudiced against her master, 
and her testimony cannot be of much value. 
Come, let us question yon tree.” This they did. 
“ Men,” returned the tree, “ do return evil for 
good. Don’t you see that I stand on one leg 
here at the service of travellers and wanderers 1 
Whenever any one feels himself oppressed with 
heat, he seeks shelter under the shade I cast, 
and in return for the good I do him, my limbs 
are pulled off, and both axe and saw applied 
to deprive me of my branches, which serve 
to assist him in manufacturing purposes. Be¬ 
sides, not a stalk or stem is saved from his 
rapacity. Now remember, I look only to his 
happiness, whereas he does nothing but afflict 
me.” “ Now,” said the serpent, “ what further 
evidence do you seek % Are you, or are you not, 
satisfied with the testimony of two 1 You had 
better prepare yourself for death at once.” 
“ Stop a bit,” said the man, “ I doubt the veracity 
of the first, because I think she has been injured 
by mankind ; and I therefore wish to resort to a 
third witness, before I give in to your terms.” 

I By chance, a fox, who was present there, had 
overheard the whole conversation. The serpent 
proposed to refer the matter to him. Before 
I they had time to put any question, he came 
! forward and exclaimed, “ Fool! knowest thou 


! not that the return for good is evil ? But in the 
| name of wonder, what service hast thou render- 
| ed to the serpent.” He recounted the whole 
| story. “ You look wise,” said the fox, “ but why 
| utter such deliberate falsehoods 1” “ True it is 
i what he says,” remarked the serpent. The 
bag in which the serpent was saved, was yet 
with the camel-driver. The fox on seeing it lost 
his temper, and said he could never believe that 
; such a gigantic serpent could have remained in 
j such a tiny b^g. “See, and then believe it,” 
j said the venemous reptile. The camel-driver 
| laid it before him, and lo ! he was entrapped 
| again. “The enemy is now powerless,” said 
| the fox, “ pause no* in ensuring his destruction.” 
{ He obeyed—dashed the bag on the ground, and 
| killed the serpent. 

j Moral. The wise should never lose sight of 
j prudence, nor allow an enemy to entrap them 
! by false pretences. 

j Story XLVII.— The Huntsman and the Deer. 

\ A deer by chance was entrapped by a huntsman; 
but just as the latter was approaching to secure 
his prize, despair gave strength to the animal, 
and breaking the snare he ran towards the woods, 
j Hereupon the huntsman discharged an arrow at 
| him, which brought him low. He then lifted up 
the remains on his shoulders, and was returning, 

; when he met a wild boar in the way, at whom he 
aimed a shaft, and succeeded in wounding him. 

; The boar got enraged, and attacked the hunts- 
; man. The result was that both were killed. 

! A bear passing that way after some time, 

I saw a man, a deer and a boar lying -lifeless, 
and thanked his stars for the goods thus pro¬ 
vided for him. But he paused for a while and 
thought, that it was impossible to devour all at 
once, and unless he laid by some portion, he 
would make a fool of himself. It was not wise 
to waste all the good things he got. He then came 
to the resolution of feeding on the bow-string 
\ that day, and keeping away the rest for future 
\ consumption. Prudent sages have said:—“ Do 
| not eat up all, for should you live long, you will 
\ go empty-handed in your old age. Eat some- 
\ thing, and keep by some.” In a word, he com- 
| menced gnawing the bow-string, until it snap- 
| ped, when the point of the bow struck him with 
\ such force, that he died there. 

! Moral. To lay by wealth, and to live in hopes 
| of long life, is not very proper. 

Story XLVIII.— The Cat and the Pigeons. 

| A man had a cat whom he daily gorged with 
j meat, but still without satisfying her craving 
J for raw flesh. One day she went near a pigeon- 
j house, and hearing the sound of the birds, was 
1 greatly tempted to make an attempt on them, 
j The owner of the pigeons seeing this ran out, 

( beat the cat to death, pulled away her skin, and 
| filling it up with chaff, placed it on the door of 
j the pigeon-house. The owner of the cat pass¬ 
ing that way, saw her remains and said, “Covet¬ 
ous creature! if thou hadst been content with 
j the meat I gave thee, thy hide would not have 
been pulled off.” 


G 




KHIRUD UFROZ- 


BOOK II. 


Story XLIX.— The Crows and the Chois. —On a 
mountain in China there was a gigantic tree, in 
the branches of which there w^e thousands of 
nests built by crows, whose king at that time 
was one named Feroze. One night the king of 
the owls, named Shub Abung, who was a foe to 
the crows, made an attack on them with his 
army, defeated them, and returned triumphant. 
Next day Feroze rallied his forces and said, “ You 
have seen how the owls attacked us last night, 
killing many and wounding and dispersing the 
rest; what is worse again, is, that now they have 
once gained a victory, they will attack us again 
whenever they will find an opportunity. What 
plans then are to be devised, to prevent the 
recurrence of such a catastrophe V' —There were 
five crows in that army who were wiser than the 
rest, and often consulted by the king in mat¬ 
ters of politics and in times of danger. Feroze 
asked of them to devise'Some means after deep 
consideration. After praising the king, they 
said, “ What your Majesty thinks proper is 
right. More than what we can say, will be 
arrived at by you; but as we must obey, we 
advise thus: “King,” said one, “ancient 
philosophers have said, that, ‘ when one cannot 
oppose an enemy, it is better for him to leave 
house and family, and fly; for it is difficult to 
make a stand, particularly after a defeat.’ He 
who fights under circumstances like these, sleeps 
as it were on the surface of a river, or builds a 
fabric on a stream; for to depend on courage 
then is not prudent. From both sides there is a 
chance of attack. God forbid ! if retreat would 
become impossible. Some one has said : ‘ avoid 
contention with petty enemies even, for drops 
form the ocean ; and go not against a powerful 
foe, for it is difficult to press a finger on a 
lancet.’ ” “ And now, what do you say V’ asked 
the king, turning to the second. “ I think, he 
began, “ that it is not manly to despair and fly 
from home after a single defeat. It is bringing 
ourselves into contempt, and acting against the 
dictates of reason. It befits us to prepare for 
warfare and avenge our shame. The king will 
then gain fame, when he will wield the sword 
with both his hands. It is advisable now to 
send messengers every where; to have spies in 
our service, and to take the field boldly, and 
march in the direction of the enemies’ force, to 
conquer or die. The generals should be particu¬ 
larly devoted to their duty on the day of action, 
and scruple not to lay down life and property 
for the public weal. He who kisses the edge of 
the sword, is worthy the bride of power.” The 
king next questioned the third. “ I think,” he 
said, “ that it is proper to conclude peace at pre-* 


i sent, regardless of the defeat we have sustained. 
| If they require us to pay any tax, why, we must 
j pay the same, and thus avoid another invasion. 
| It is prudent for kings, when they find their ene¬ 
mies powerful, and the safety of their subjects 
likely to be endangered, to defend their kingdoms, 
| even by means of self-sacrifice. Peace is preferable 
| to war. If force cannot overcome a foe, money 
| can tie his hand from harm.” The fourth sage 
! was then requested to give his opinion. 

| “ Monarch,” he began, “ it is better to leave our 
| native land than to be oppressed by the enemy, 
l We may humble ourselves as much as we can, 

: and pay them any sum of money, still they 
; will not be satisfied, but continue digging our 
foundation. The wise have said, ‘ be humble 
before your enemies, if any advantage is to be 
gained thereby; not otherwise; for in the 
latter case, you will only make them bolder. 
If they agree to receive tribute, they will not be 
content with little when they will see us very 
humble. We must act slowly and patiently and 
fight too if needs be, for war is any day preferable 
to infamy.” The fifth councillor, named Karshu- 
nas, was a wise minister. The king, placing great 
reliance on his judgment, asked how he advised 
him to act:—to fight, conclude peace or leave 
their native country. “ As long as we can help,” he 
said, “ we should not fight, for our foes are strong¬ 
er, more disciplined, and glorying after their late 
success. It is not wise to consider the enemy weak. 
Pride always leads to destruction. From the 
first I was afraid of their numbers, and my 
worst fears have been realised. We must take 
time and perfect some plans; for you may rest as¬ 
sured, they will not attack us in a hurry. There 
are several wise birds among them, who will not 
regard any foe as insignificant. When the enemy 

is near there should be fears of a surprise, if far_ 

of a sudden run. If they give a defeat, we should 
suspect cunning, and if they come in small num¬ 
bers, artifice is to be dreaded. Now that they 
have overthrown us lately, they will not come 
back soon, but dread the precautions we may have 
taken. If they have thought of war even, we need 
not get ready. The wise avoid strife, which en¬ 
dangers such a valued thing as life.” “ If 
you deprecate war,” said the king, “tell us 
how are we to act ?” “ Pause,” he replied, “ and 
consider the matter well. Kings gain more by 
wise schemes than by treasure or troops. Aided 
by wisdom, one sword destroys thousands, and 
one plan overthrows an army. The King’s 
right-thinking is principally required. For my 
part, I wish to speak something in private 
and something in public. If I have set my 
face against war, I am equally opposed to paying 


KHIRUD UFROZ. * 


23 


tribute, or leaving our country. Acts like these 
would make us infamous to the day of judg¬ 
ment. The wise wish for long life, to spend it 
in the enjoyment of a good name. Whenever 
any stain is cast on their reputation—farewell 
longevity! I do not counsel your Majesty to 
humble yourself before your enemy ; for he who 
shows humiliation to a foe opens the door of 
distress on himself. I shall speak more on this 
subject in private.” “Sage,” remarked a coun¬ 
cillor, “the object of a public consultation is 
to bring on a free discussion, in which every 
one may express his opinion. It is, in fact, 
an assemblage of the wisdom of many. The 
wise never begin a work without looking to the 
right and the left, and the high and the low, of 
the affair—and then they succeed. Why are 
you so desirous of a private meeting?” “Every 
one is not a confidant,” replied the other, “ and 
kingly secrets are not to be disclosed to all. 
Kings are betrayed either by councillors or spies, 
who (the last) derive information from others, 
and then publish them. I grant that council¬ 
lors are trustworthy, and well-wishing; but 
how can you be safe with their friends? And 
admitting that they are worthy people too, how 
do you know that there is no tattler present in 
the company, who will hear your plans and 
betray you to your enemy, who being put on 
his guard, would try his best to baffle your en¬ 
deavours, and thus overthrow your plans ? Even 
if the tattler do not come to know the secret, 
still he may guess out our intentions and 
betray us. Hence it is that wise creatures have 
always kept their secrets. He who trusts 
a stranger is sure to repent, and gain nothing. 
No one should be so careful with his plans as 
kings ; for should any evil-wisher come to know 
of them, the result will be general harm. Many 
have lost their dominions, and even their lives, 
by disclosing their secrets.” The king adopted 
the advice of Karshunas, and all the owls were 
destroyed by his schemes. 

Moral .—To all, and to kings in particular, wise 
and single-minded friends are of the highest 
advantage. 

Story L. —The Secret revealed .—The governor 
of Cashmere had a mistress, lovely as a fairy. 
As faithlessness is the characteristic trait in wo¬ 
men, she fell in love with one of the young at¬ 
tendants of the court. The youth also was fasci¬ 
nated with her charms, and they lived as lovers 
from that time. One day the governor came to 
the knowledge of these affairs. He became jea¬ 
lous it is true; but he did not wish to do any 
deed precipitately, though he knew very well ; 
that there were enemies whom it would be im¬ 
prudent to hesitate sacrificing: apparently then ; 
he winked at these deeds; though in reality he : 
was only waiting for a fair opportunity to punish 
them. Next day, when the business of the court ! 
was over, he sent for the vuzeer to consult him on ; 
the subject of the destruction of his foes. Though 
reason bade him act on his own responsibility, 


independent of his minister, still he made the 
latter his confidant, and asked him how he was 
to act. The vuzeer advised him to kill them by 
administering poison, unknown to all but himself 
and his adviser. This, he added, was the best way 
of avoiding infamy. Returning home, the mi¬ 
nister found his daughter very sorrowful, and on 
making enquiries came to know that the gover¬ 
nor’s mistress had spoken very unkindly against 
her, which greatly lowered her character in the 
estimation of her relations and friends. “Ne¬ 
ver mind,” said the father, greatly afflicted, “ in 
a few days the lamp of her life will be blown 
out.” The girl wishing to know how, the parent 
gave her a glimpse of the secret, and told her to 
be very careful in keeping silence. When she had 
returned into her own apartments, one of her fe¬ 
male slaves came to speak to her. Finding her 
in very good humoui’, the princess told her that 
the governor’s sweet-heart had maligned her, 
but that in a few days she was to get her deserts. 
“ How did you hear this news ?” asked the slave, 
“and when will we be released from her tyranny?” 
“ If you can hide my secret, ” said the other, 
“ I shall confide in you.” The slave swore she 
would do so, and was made acquainted with all 
the particulars, which she that instant carried 
to the king’s mistress, who sending for her lover 
put him on his guard. He lost no time on his 
part, but assembling a body of cut-throats 
proceeded at once to the palace and slew the 
governor. Thus it was that the disclosure of a 
secret cost him his life. 

Moral. Men, and governors especially, should 
keep their secrets to themselves. 

Story LI .—The Birds choosing a King .—The 
birds assembling at a time, unanimously agreed 
to elect a king, who would be their guide and 
director in time of need. Each proposed one 
for the purpose, but was overthrown by the 
arguments of the others. When the owl was 
named, however, the majority spoke in favor of 
his election. The dissentient party grew warm, 
discussions were held long, till at last they fell 
out among each other. Then it was proposed 
by those who liked peace, that some one, not 
represented in the company, should be called in, 
and the matter referred to him. What he said 
the rest were to assent to. A crow was 
seen at this time. They at once had recourse to 
him, and after stating the particulars asked his 
advice. “ What,” remarked the crow, “ has an 
owl to do with government ? What has become 
of the high-flying royal-falcon ? Where is the 
lovely peacock ? Is there no bird of paradise to 
be found? Have eagles disappeared from crea¬ 
tion ? If these had vanished, and the petty 
birds become extinct, even then it would have 
been better to remain without a king, rather 
than to be governed by an owl, who is*not only 
ugly and stupid, but at tlje same time full of 
malice and pride. His levity too is patent to 
all. Admitting even that these defects can be 
rectified, and that wise precepts would do much 



24 


• KHIRUD UFROZ. 


to improve him, still how will you manage to 
make the life-giving light of the sun agreeable to 
him ? Renounce then the idea of electing him 
king. Base your resolves on wisdom, and you 
will live in peace. You should appoint one from 
among yourselves, who would be able to guide and 
direct you; one on whose counsels you could 
place reliance, and who could aid you in the 
hour of trial. 

Story LI1 .—The Elephants and the Hares. 
In the country of the elephants, a drought hap¬ 
pened one year. Much troubled with thirst, 
they complained to their king, who ordered 
spies to go out in search of water. They 
reached a fountain, called the Fountain of the 
Moon, very deep, and welling with water, and 
brought the intelligence to the king, who re¬ 
paired thither with all his subjects. A number 
of hares, who had made their habitation in the 
same quarter, were much inconvenienced with 
the visits of the elephants. Assembling together, 
they went to their king, knowing well that mo- 
narchs were created for the safety of their 
subjects, and their occupation of the throne 
secured for a similar purpose. “King,” they 
exclaimed, “do justice, and take vengeance on 
the elephants. Once they came and crushed 
several of us. They will return now and destroy 
us.” “This is no easy matter,” said the king ; 
“ I must consider before I pass any order. Such 
of you as have sense, be present here, and I 
shall consult you. To act without advice is not 
wise.” One of the hares, named Buhroz, seeing 
matters in this state, said:—“If your Majesty 
deems it advisable, send me as an ambassador to 
the elephants, and let a commissioner accompa- 
ny me to report on the proceedings.” “ I trust 
you fully,” said the king, “ and I need not de¬ 
pute a commissioner with you. Go yourself 
and act as you like. You know that the ambas¬ 
sadors of sovereigns should be eloquent, so that 
the reputation and prestige of their employers 
may be kept up. If the ambassadors show skill 
and wisdom, the discrimination of kings is there¬ 
by shown, whereas, on the contrary, if they are 
found to be unfit, fault-finders will be loud in 
condemning their masters. Sages have laid 
particular stress on this faci, and have advised 
sovereigns to appoint the best in the kingdom 
as an emissary.' In ancient times, philosophers 
were deputed as such. Alexander often went 
in disguise as his own emissary, and pleaded 
his own cause. ‘ An emissary,’ says an authority, 
‘ should be wise, bold in speech, ready in his re¬ 
plies and iu every circumstance right in his 
deeds.’ There are some, who taking offence at a 
word, have ruined empires, and destroyed na¬ 
tions ; and there are others, who by_ a single 
word, aptly spoken, have restored peace and 
tranquillity in a disorganised state.” “King,” 
returned Buhroz, “ I have an address in speak¬ 
ing, it is true, but as your Majesty is my supe¬ 
rior, will you honor me with written instructions, 
which it shall be my duty to abide by ?” “ An 


ambassador,” observed the king, “should mingle 
reproaches with his speech when needed, but 
when he finds his opponents rather severe, he 
should try to overcome them by mildness. These 
will ensure him success in his mission. At last, 
after knowing the plans of the enemy, he should 
return. The wise need no instruction in the 
art. As your wisdom and prudence bid you, 
act, and return.” The hare departed. That 
very night, when the moon had risen, he 
started on his journey, and reaching the island 
of the Elephants, thought, that in the vicinity 
of the abode of these tyrants, his life was in 
danger. Although they might have no intention 
of doing any harm, still it was far from prudent 
to meet those gigantic creatures, because they 
were proud, and did not care for the low and the 
poor; and there was every fear of his being 
crushed to death. It would be better, he fanci¬ 
ed, to ascend an eminence, and thence publish 
his words, which if heard, all right, and if not, 
his life at least would be safe. Acting upon the 
impulse, he got on a hill, and called out that he 
was deputed by the moon. The king of the 
elephants wished to know what he had to say. 
“ Monarch !” began the deputy, “ thou knowest 
that the moon is the leader of the forces of the 
night, as well as the lieutenant of the king of 
day. Whoever tries to oppose her, or to turn 
a deaf ear to her requisitions, rushes on his own 
destruction.” The king was a little surprised 
at this; but wished to know what the purport 
of his errand was. “ The moon has said,” began 
Buhroz, “that those who glory in their size and 
shape, and oppress the poor and the weak, are 
sure to be annihilated. Proud of your superiori¬ 
ty over other quadrupeds, you have presumed 
to come to my fountain, and with your army 
have drunk water therefrom, and made it muddy 
and impure. But you know not that I visit 
with death all those who offend me. I send you 
this message that you may take warning, other¬ 
wise I shall come down upon you and kill you. 
Now if you doubt the truth of this message, 
come, for I am present in my fountain, and you 
will see me, and never approach the water 
again.” The Elephant, much astonished, ap¬ 
proached the fountain, and there, sure enough, 
he saw the moon reflected from the water. 
“Monarch,” said Buhroz, “take water, wash 
thy face, and bow down low before the moon; 
perhaps she will relent and spare thee.” The 
elephant put forward his trunk and touched the 
water, which being agitated, made the reflection 
of the moon move to and fro. “Ambassador !” 
he exclaimed, “ perhaps the moon is angry at my 
touching the water.” “Yes,” returned the other, 
“bend thy head instantly and pay respects to 
her.” The king obeyed, and promised never to 
come, nor bring the other elephants there again. 
Buhroz communicated this welcome news to his 
sovereign, and freed him from this dark evil. 

Story LIII. — The Crow, the Partridge, the 
Quail and the Cat .—“ In a .valle}” said a crow, 




KHIRUD UFROZ. 


25 


there grew a tree on which I had a nest, and in 
my immediate neighbourhood there was another 
occupied by a quail, whose company pleased me 
very much, inasmuch as he always sympathised 
in my distresses. At last he disappeared one 
day, and years having elapsed, I fancied he 
nad died. His nest was takeu possession of 
by a partridge. When some days had passed, 
the quail came back, and seeing a stranger in 
his nest began quarrelling and ordering the 
partridge to leave it. The other remarked that 
the house was then in his* possession, and the 
quail might, if he could, prove his right. “ But,” 
said the quail, “your possession is by might 
not right.” In short, they fell out amongst them¬ 
selves, and though I tried to reconcile them, it 
was all in vain. At last it was resolved to refer 
the matter to some judge, and ask him to decide 
it. Said the quail, “ A pious, devout and ab¬ 
stemious cat lives just in our neighbourhood, 
teke passes all her time in watching and weepinc 
and never persecutes any living creature. Come’ 
let us refer our dispute to her.” In a word, they 
went, and I followed to see how the case was 
decided. The moment the cat beheld the new 
comers, she like a true rogue, bent her head and 
saluted them. The quail and the partridge were 
greatly astonished. They remained standing for 
a long while, until she raised her head, when°they 
paid their respects to her, and begged of her to 
hear and decide their case. After long entreaties 
she bade them proceed with the details, which 
they did. “Friends,” said the cat, “ age has injur¬ 
ed my sense of hearing and seeing. Come nearer, 
and repeat your story louder, that I may hear 
and pass some suitable order. But before that, 

I should like to give you some friendly advice, 
which, if heard, will tend to your own benefit, 
and if not, will at least free me from blame. It 
is proper for you to stick to your rights, to 
abide by righteousness, and not to be proud of 
the fleeting possessions of this world.” “ Judge,” 
said the quail, “if every one respected rights 
and lived honest and righteous lives, judicial 
functionaries would never be troubled with com¬ 
plaints, and witnesses never called upon to take 
oaths. When two parties become selfishly in¬ 
clined, they repair to the judge, who disinterest¬ 
edly decides the case. An old man saw a judge 
crying bitterly when a case was brought before 
him. ‘Why are you weeping V asked the old man. 

‘ These two,’ was the answer, ‘ know each others 
affairs ; while I do not. Let us see how matters 
are settled.’ ‘ Well’ said the old man, ‘they 
know each others affairs, but they are interested 
in them, and you are not; your judgment will be 
therefore unbiassed.’” “ This is something new,” 
said the cat. “ Drive selfishness from your heart. 
Know that the man of truth is the real gainer 
even though he does not ajjparently obtain his 
object; whereas the liar is the loser, although 
he succeeds. I tell you again, righteous deeds 
alone secure salvation, and life is not to be trust¬ 
ed. Great and small, friend and stranger, should 


all be loved and dealt with alike. None should 
be harmed.” In short, such were the words she 
employed to entrap them. They approached 
nearer, when all on a sudden, she pounced upon 
both and filled her stomach with their delicious 
flesh. Then it was found that all her piety was 
nothing but hypocrisy. 

Story LIV.— The Ascetic and his Goat .—As an 
ascetic was leading a well-fed goat by a string 
round its neck, several thieves met him, and de¬ 
termined by means of art and cunning to rob 
him of the animal he was taking home. Failing 
in their endeavours, they at last resolved to 
cheat the durweslj. One of them, coming right 
before him, asked: “ Venerable Sir, whence have 
you brought this dog?” Another coming up at 
the same time enquired, “Sir, whither are you 
taking this dog?” A third made his appearance 
at this time. “Old man,” he said, “ I fancy you 
are a sportsman; that is the reason why you are 
taking this dog with you.” Another friend com¬ 
ing from behind, enquired what price had he paid 
for the dog. In this way they all tried to play a 
trick on the foolish, ascetic. They were unanimous 
in declaring that the animal he was leading was 
a dog, with this qualification, that some said it 
was a watch-dog, while others maintained that 
it was a shepherd’s dog. Others again sneered at 
the old man, and remarked, that he appeared to 
be a devout individual, but yet for all that he 
did not seem to care touching an impure animal. 
Lastly, one observed that the ascetic was a cha¬ 
ritable man, and was taking the dog to feed it. 
All these remarks at last made the pious man 
doubt his own eyes. He believed that the per¬ 
son who had sold the goat was a magician, who 
had, by his charms, made the dog look like a goat 
to him. Leaving the creature there, he went to 
the seller. The thieves in the meantime got bold 
of the same, and killed and feasted on it. Thus 
the ascetic lost his goat, without receiving back 
the price he had paid for it. 

Story LV. The Merchant, his Wife and the 
Thief .—There was a rich merchant, very ugly, 
ill-natured, old, slow, niggardly and sour, who 
had a very beautiful wife. Her he loved with 
heart and soul, but she on her part fled thou¬ 
sands of miles from him. One night when he 
was fast asleep, with his wife wide awake, a 
thief entered the house. Terrified at what she 
beheld, she clung to the old fellow, who delight¬ 
ed beyond measure at finding her in his arms 
exclaimed, “Heavens ! am 1 awake, or is this 
a dream only ?” so much astonished was he at 
this unexpected display of love on her part. Pre¬ 
sently after he beheld the thief. “Friend,” he 
said, “thou art welcome to any thing thou likest 
for it is thy presence which has made this cruel’ 
heartless woman kind to me.” 

Story LVI.— The Ascetic and the disagreeing 
Thieves.—A pious and devout ascetic had built a 
temple in the suburbs of Bagdad, in which 
morning and evening, he offered prayers to God.’ 
One of his disciples, admiring his zeal in the 


H 






26 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


cause of religion, presented him with a fat, j 
young milch buffaloe. A thief hearing of this i 
affair, set out for the abode of the durwesh. In j 
the way he met the devil, and asked him who he j 
was and whither he was going. “ I am the devil,” \ 
returned the other, “ and am going to such an { 
ascetic’s house. This man has robbed me of my \ 
votaries, and what is worse, is trying to pro- } 
pagate religion on the earth. If I shall find \ 
an opportunity, I shall wring his neck for him. ' 
This is my story. Now, who are you ?” “ Why, \ 
I am a robber,” said the other: “ by night and ! 
by day my thoughts are about robbing and j 
afflicting people. I am going to the very same j 
ascetic’s house, to steal away a young, fat buf¬ 
faloe therefrom.” They proceeded together. j 
In the night they reached the house of the \ 
ascetic, who had just that moment closed his j 
eyes to take a nap. The thief thought that if S 
the devil tried to kill him, perhaps the devotee j 
would make a noise, which would alarm the / 
neighbourhood, and make him go without the 
buffaloe. The devil on his part thought that to 
remove the buffaloe, the thief must have to open 
the door; this would make a grating sound, ; 
which would probably arouse the sleeper and j 
save him from destruction. “Wait,” he said j 
to the thief, “let me first kill the man, and 
then you can take away the buffaloe.” “No,” j 
said the thief, “ let me first decamp with the 
buffaloe, and then you can destroy the man.” j 
To these terms neither would agree, so they fell 
to fighting with each other. The thief, alarmed, j 
called out “ Here’s the devil who wants to i 
kill thee !” The other bawled out “ Here’s a j 
thief, who wants to steal away thy buffaloe !” j 
The ascetic started up frbm his sleep, and < 
gave the alarm. The neighbours came running, ! 
and the thief and the devil had both to run as j 
fast as their legs would carry them. 

Story LVII. — The Monkeys and the Bear. — A j 
band of monkeys lived in an island and fed on 1 
the most delicious fruits procurable there. ; 
The climate also was agreeable to their nature. 1 
One day several monkeys were sitting under ; 
the shade of a tree, conversing on different < 
subjects, when by chance a bear came up and j 
seeing them thus occupied, thought that it was < 
not proper for him to live on mountains, feed j 
on roots and dry reeds, and pass his days in J 
distress, while these occupied such a lovely j 
island, and fed on the most delicious fruits. He \ 
then tried to drive them away therefrom, but S 
the monkeys set up a loud noise; thousands j 
of them came running, and attacked and wound- 1 
ed the bear. Thus poor Bruin found all his | 
hopes cast to the ground, before he had realised i 
any of his pleasant anticipations. He fled < 
thence to the mountain-top, whither his ; 
shrieks attracted his friends. To them he re- ' 
counted the story of his distress, and added 
that it was a disgrace for big, powerful bears 
to submit to such insignificant creatures as 
monkeys; that none of their forefathers had 


been treated in the way he had been, and that 
if they remained quiet they would be infamous 
for ever. It was advisable for them to assemble, 
and make such a mighty attack on the monkeys, 
as would make them dearly repent for the insult 
they had offered. At last, one night, all the bears 
came down from the mountain, and marched 
in the direction of the island in which the 
monkeys lived. Fortunately the king of the 
monkeys, who had gone out to hunt in the 
forest with his nobles, was still there. The 
others, who were sleeping carelessly at home, 
were surprised by the bears, and many were 
slain, and more wounded. Thus victorious, 
the shaggy beasts fixed upon that island for 
their abode, and took hold of all the provisions 
which the monkeys had laid up with years of 
labor. The next day their king, who was unac¬ 
quainted with the particulars, bent his course 
to the island. In the way the wounded and the 
vanquished met him and gave him the melan¬ 
choly tidings. “Alas!” sighed the king, “that 
my ancestral dominions have departed from 
my hand, and my wealth and provisions taken 
by the enSmy. “The attendants all set up a wail 
for friends and relatives slain, and wealth and 
property lost. One of them, Mymoon by name, 
was the wisest of them all; and had often ad¬ 
vised kings and princes with effect: seeing the 
monarch thoughtful and dejected, he opened his 
mouth and said :—“ It is not wise to lose patience 
in the time of trouble. Confusion and pertur¬ 
bation of spirit sadden friends and gladden our 
foes. Patience is what we require, and better 
schemes should be concerted wherewith to avenge 
our wrongs.” “ What are these schemes?” asked 
the king. “Monarch,” said the other, “our 
children, friends and relatives have bpen slain ; 
without them we cannot enjoy life for a moment. 
Better it is therefore for us—the more so as we 
are so willing to die—to free ourselves soon from 
the concerns of this world, and take revenge for 
what our enemies have done.” “ Revenge,” ob¬ 
served the king, “is sweet in this world alone. 
When you are dead, what matters to you 
whether this world is flourishing or fading V' 
“In our present state of affairs,” returned My¬ 
moon, “ death is better than life. The eyes of 
our dear children have been closed, and any 
desire on our part to live, after they have mixed 
with their kindred clay, is a reproach to us, and 
an insult to their memory. I wish now to try 
my best in proving of use to my king, to aid my 
afflicted friends, and by sacrificing my life, to 
gain eternal fame in this world. I wish his 
majesty will not regret my death, but when 
enjoying with friends, that he will be pleased 
to recal my fidelity to mind.” “ How is this work 
to be done 1” enquired the king. “ I have 
thought,” said the other, “ to take the bears to 
- a desert, where the simoom blows warm and 
; killing, and there is every probability that I 
| shall succeed in my plans of encompassing their 
; destruction. Order the other monkeys now to 




KHIRUD UFROZ. 


27 


pull off my ears, to break my hands and feet, and ; 
to cast me in a corner of our usual habitation. 
Disperse yourself for a time in the woods. Thus 
let two days pass. On the morning of the third, 
return to your old habitation, and not a single ene¬ 
my will you find there.” They did as desired, and 
the king dispersed his attendants in all direc¬ 
tions. The whole night was passed by Mymoon 
in sighs and groans. In the morning the king 
ol the bears, going out for a stroll, heard the 
cries and approached the wounded monkey. 
When he saw him in this state he was moved, 
notwithstanding his hardness of heart, and wish¬ 
ed to know the particulars of his case. Mymoon, 
knowing him to be the king, blessed and praised 
his majesty, and answered, “I am the minister 
of the king of the monkeys. I was with him 
in the hunt, and therefore was not present in 
the battle-field. The next day I heard of your 
majesty’s arrival, from the fugitives. The king, 
whose confidant I was, asked my advice on the 
matter. I counselled him to present himself 
before your majesty, and to make an offer of 
services to you; for, added I, our happiness in 
this world will be secured by this conduct, and 
we will be able to pass the remainder of our 
lives in quiet content.” The king was displeased 
with my advice, and reproved all his attendants. 
When I counselled him anew, he suspected me 
to be favorably disposed to your majesty, had all 
these wounds inflicted on me, and I was cast in 
this forest to see how I could assist you. All 
my services have been forgotten, and here I am.” 
Having spoken thus he wept bitterly. The 
king’s eyes moistened with tears, and he enquir¬ 
ed, where the monkeys were at present. “They 
have sought shelter,” was the reply, “in a forest 
called Murd Azmai (trier of men), where they 
are rallying fast, and I am afraid they will soon 
be able to make a deadly attack on you.” The 
king was alarmed. “Mymoon,” said he, “what 
am I to do ? I do not wish my race to suffer any 
harm from the enemies’ hands.” “King!” said 
the other, “ do not fear. If I had feet I would 
have gone with a band of troops, and inflicted a 
good chastisement on that indiscriminating 
race.” “I know” said the king, “that you are 
at home in this part of the world. Now conduct 
me to them, and I shall be highly obliged, and 
you too have an opportunity of avenging your 
wrongs.” “But how can this be?” asked Mymoon, 

“ my hands and legs are broken, and I cannot 
move.” “Leave that to me,” was the answer, 
“ I shall devise means to carry thee.” He then 
sent for his chiefs, and told them to be ready for 
an attack on the enemy that night. Every thing 
was soon prepared, and Mymoon being fastened 
to the back of a bear, was allowed to be taken 
ahead pointing the way. They reached at last 
the terrible desert, a desert in which water was 
no where to be found, and where the simoom 
was continually blowing. “Move rapidly,” said 
the guide, “ we should reach our destination 
before day-break, and destroy the wretches in 


the dead of night.” The bears readily obeyed. 
Willingly they set their feet in the valley of 
death. Day now dawned, but no trace of the 
monkeys could be any where seen. Still they 
advanced as rapidly as before, till the heat 
became intolerable, and the deadly simoom set 
in with all its fury. The king turned towards 
Mymoon, and asked “What dreadful forest is 
this? and what this wind blowing like a blast from 
a fiery furnace ?” “Cruel tyrant!” broke out the 
other, “ rest satisfied. This desert is the desert 
of death, and this blast of wind its harbinger. 
If you have a thousand lives, still you will not 
escape. With the fire of tyranny you burnt the 
hearts of the monkeys, and now this fiery 
simoom will destroy you all.” While yet speak¬ 
ing, a deadly blast came sweeping on, and 
consumed the whole party. Not one escaped. 
On the third day the king of the monkeys returned 
to the island, according to promise, and found 
it clear of his foes. 

Story LVIII .—The Fakeer and the Mouse .—A 
holy fakeer was so much favored by God, that 
whatever he prayed for, was granted him. As 
he was sitting on the side of a river one day, 
an eagle came flying towards him, and a mouse 
escaping from his bills fell before the durwesh, 
who took it up and carried it home. There it 
sti’uck him that the creature was likely to 
become troublesome in time. He therefore 
prayed to God that it may be transformed into 
a human being. He was heard, and a beauti¬ 
ful girl stood before him. Her he made over 
to one of his disciples, and asked him to adopt 
her as his own child. When she grew up, 
and reached the age of puberty, “ Child,” said 
the holy man, addressing her, “ the day has 
arrived that thou shouldst think of marrying. 
The choice of a partner I leave to thee. Choose 
a man, or any other creature: thy will shall 
be respected.” “ I want a husband,” said the 
girl, “ who shall be the strongest, and noblest 
of all beings in the world.” “ Of such a 
nature the moon is,” observed the Durwesh. 
When night came on, he disclosed these parti¬ 
culars to the moon, who replied that the 
clouds were stronger, for they could hide the 
lustre of the moon even. So then the clouds 
were referred to. They said they were not the 
strongest. The winds were stronger, for they 
blew about the clouds in whatever direction 
they liked. The winds were next consulted. 
They said the mountains that stand firm on 
the earth, were the strongest. “No,” said they, 
“ rats are stronger than we; for they can 
dig up our foundation.” “ That is true,” said 
the girl very readily, “rats are the strongest 
creatures on earth, and I shall marry one of 
them.” In short then, they took her to a rat, 
who readily agreed to marry, for he found great 
attractions in her, and was long desirous of 
meeting one whose nature was congenial to his 
own. “But.” said he, “how can our shapes 
be altered ?” “ That’s easily done,” returned 





28 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


his would-be bride, “this holy man will pray 
to God, and I shall become a she-mouse.” And 
so he did, and so she became. 

Moral. The nature of any creature can never 
be altered. 

Story LIX.— The old Snake and the Frog. —An 
old snake had become perfectly weak and unable 
to seize his prey. “Youth,” ha sighed and 
said, “ will never return. To expect it again 
is as wise as to look for fiery properties in water, 
or to try and quench thirst by swallowing fire. 
Even old age will not last for ever. If time 
passed, then, never returns, it is better to pro¬ 
vide for the future : what I have lost in strength 
I have gained in experience. Persecution is not 
to be carried on any more, but forbearance 
practised to its full extent.” Thus saying he 
repaired to the banks of a pond, in which were 
several frogs, governed by their king named 
Kamgar. The serpent, like one persecuted and 
oppressed, laid himself down ou the bank. A 
frog emerging from the pond, asked why he 
looked so sorrowful. “ Who else has more cause 
for grief,” said he, “than myself?—I lived on 
frogs hitherto. Now such a calamity has befall¬ 
en me that from to-day I cannot touch one—nay, 
cannot attempt to run after one even.” The 
frog went and told the king, who was much 
astonished, and repairing to the serpent, enquir¬ 
ed what that calamity was. “ King,” he said, 
“my own shameful covetousness has brought 
me into trouble. One day as I was chasing a 
frog, he tried to escape and ran to the house of 
a devotee for shelter. I pursued. The house 
was dark, and the devotee’s son was sleeping 
there. Coming in contact with the child’s toe, 
and mistaking it for the frog, I gave it a bite, 
which killed the child instantly. The devotee 
hearing of this, and afflicted at the loss of his 
child, tried to destroy me. I ran, and he fol¬ 
lowed, cursing me in the following style: ‘ May 
Heaven confound thee !—Mayest thou be brought 
low before the frogs; may their king ride on 
thee; mayest thou be powerless against attacking 
them, but feed on what they give thee by way 
of charity V His prayer is heard, and submitting 
to the will of God, I am here, that the king may 
ride on my shoulders.” The latter agreed; his 
vanity was flattered, and he exalted himself 
above his fellows. When some days had gone by 
in this way, the serpent represented to the king 
that he could not live without food. To perform 
his duty, he added, he was always ready. 

“ What you say is right,” said the king “I cannot 
do without riding, and without food thou caust 
not work well: from to-day thou shalt daily get 
two frogs to feed on.” This the serpent consider¬ 
ed profitable enough, and forgetting his degrada¬ 
tion lived ou. 

Story LX.— The Birds and the Serpent. —A pair 
of birds had built their nest on a terrace, and lived 
on the grains they daily collected in the house. ! 
After some time they had young ones, whom it \ 
was their sole care to feed. Food they searched ( 


5 every where, and all for their young. One day 
| the male went out, and returned late, when he 
| found his partner flying about the nest much 
! alarmed, and uttering plaintive notes. “Dear 
| one!” asked the male, “what is the matter?” 

“Oh ! what shall I say ?” returned the other, 
| “ I left my darlings but for a minute, when on my 
\ return what did 1 see, but an immense serpent 
( trying to get hold of them : I begged hard of 
\ him to spare the little ones; I urged on htti 
the consideration, that the strong should not 
domineer over the weak. But all to no purpose : 

£ Your sighs,’ he said, ‘will not affect me in the 
least.’ Then remember,” I cried, “if you destroy 
the young, I and their father will both avenge 
them and encompass thy destruction in the 
best way we can. He laughed. When I found 
him determined to carry on his will, I began 
screaming; but none came to my assistance, 
and that cruel creature devoured my young, 
regardless of my wailings. He is now sleeping 
in the nest.” The male bird was filled with grief 
and indignation on hearing this. At that mo¬ 
ment the owner of the house was going to light 
his rooms. Dipping the wick in oil, he had 
lighted it, and was going to place it in the lamp, 
when the crow made a dash, took it out of his 
hands and cast it in his nest. The master of 
the house, frightened lest the fire would consume 
his terrace, ran up, and was pulling away the nest 
to put out the flames. The serpent seeing the 
sparks of fire, and hearing the sound of blows, 
put out his head from one of the terrace holes. 
At that instant a club-stroke descended on his 
head and killed him. 

Moral. —The serpent considered his enemy to 
be weak and insignificant ; hence the stroke of 
revenge fell on him and crushed his head. 

Story LXI.— The Monkey and the Tortoise. 
In an island of the Persian gulf lived a host of 
monkeys governed by one whose name was Car¬ 
dan. By his wise and sound policy he had not 
only secured the comforts of his subjects, but 
the subjection of his enemies too. This faith¬ 
less world, however, is sure in the end to turn 
away her face from those, whom she favors in 
the commencement. Cardan became old; light 
departed from his eyes, and strength from bis 
body. His ministers also proved faithless. He 
was deposed, and another elected in his place. 
He, poor fellow, could not bear this disgrace ; so 
leaving his country, he resolved to travel. At 
last he reached an island full of fruits, on which 
he fed, and lived content and satisfied, trying 
to improve the moments lost by making a right 
use of the present. One day, while breaking a 
fig from a tree, it fell from his hands into the 
water; the splash pleased him much, and he 
went on throwing one after the other, A tor¬ 
toise who had come across, and was just at that 
moment in the water under the tree, saw the figs 
dropping and feasted on them as they fell, 
thinking all the time, that the monkey was 
doing the service for him. “ Well really,” he ! 





KHIRUD UFROZ, 


29 


said to himself “the creature is an utter stranger, 
and shows such a degree of kindness; if he 
chanced to be a friend, what more would he 
have done ? Surely he would have served me 
more zealously.” Resolved upon becoming a 
friend of the monkey, he opened his mouth and 
disclosed his wishes. Cardan was pleased, and 
returned a suitable answer. They conversed for 
some time. At last the monkey observed: “ It 
is a proof of good natured wisdom to leave 
solitude aud live in the society of friends. What 
inconveniences the wise have not borne for friend¬ 
ship !” The tortoise was much gratified with the 
words of his friend. At last he said : “ Although 
I desire very much to be on intimate terms with 
you, still I cannot but ask myself the question, 
have I any quality to merit your esteem 1” \ 
“ Sages,” returned the monkey, “ have spoken j 
much in reference to friendship, and have estab- ; 
lished it as a rule, that acquaintance with, three 
sorts of creatures is always agreeable : 1st, with > 
those who live resigned to the will of God ; 2nd, j 
those who hide the faults of friends from their ; 
enemies , who do not hesitate to advise the i 
fotmer when they see them doing wrong, and who j 
regardless of their anger, speak out their minds, j 
knowing that what they say is for the good 
of the other party; and 3rd, those who are dis- j 
interested and free from covetousness. Besides i 
these, there are three kinds with whom acquain- i 
tance, much less friendship, should never be i 
made. 1st, the selfish and sensual; 2nd, liars j 
who carry tales from you to your enemies and ; 
vice versa, and 3rd, fools, who cannot discover ' 
better from best, nor evil from good. In proof 
of this last, they have said that a wise foe is 
better than a foolish friend, for the one, exercising 
prudence with which he is blest, will not harm 
you until he finds an opportunity ; whereas the 
other, lacking wisdom, will try as much as he 
can to aid you, but in reality will do more harm 
than otherwise. Often it happens that being ill- 
advised by such an one, many are entrapped and 
led to ruin and destruction.” 

Story LXII. The King, the Monkey and the 
Thief. —In Cashmere reigned a powerful king, 
who was very much attached to a monkey. This 
creature also reciprocated the kindness shown 
him, and night and day would be present serving 
the king. When the latter slept, the monkey 
would stand with a drawn sword near the bed¬ 
side, careful that no harm approached his royal 
master. This he did voluntarily. At this time 
it happened that a wise thief had come from 
foreign parts, and made his appearance in Cash- 
mere° One night he was wandering about from 
street to street, and lane to lane, when he met 
another thief, a foolish fellow, a native of that 
country, and being of the same trade, joined 
him. “Friend!” said the stranger, “which is 
the richest house to commit burglary in 1” “ A 
respectable native,” answered the fool, “has a 
fat ass, whom he loves very much. He keeps him 
chained, and in charge of two slaves. It is 


> better to go there and steal the ass first. Next 
| we shall proceed to a glazier’s shop, situated 
where four roads meet, and steal some of the 
j fine colored glass-wares, lay them on the ass, and 
| go home.” The wise thief was much surprised 
at this advice; but before he could say aught, 
the watch-man came in sight, and he had just 
j time to hide himself behind a wall. The other 
| was taken up. “ Who are you V’ asked the 
J watch-man, “and whither are you goiDg 1” “ I 

\ am a thief,” he replied, “ and I was going to steal 
i an ass from such a person’s house; after which 
; I had intended to go to the glazier’s and steal 
’ glass-wares therefrom, which were to be laid on 
the ass and taken home.” “ Well, really, you 
are a thief and no mistake,” said the watchman, 
“ what an idea, to go and steal an ass which is 
well watched, and glass-wares which are sold ten 
for two pice. If you had gone to the king’s palace 
with an intention of stealing, it would be some¬ 
thing worth endangering life for.” Thus saying 
he sent him to prison. The wise thief, who was 
a silent hearer of all these words, thought within 
himself that his late companion was a foolish friend, 
whereas the watchman was a wise enemy. The 
one had nearly brought him to destruction, 
were it not for the other, who made his appear¬ 
ance in time and saved him. Now, it is better 
to take his words, he said, and attempt entrance in 
the king’s palace. Slowly then he advanced towards 
it, and reaching it in time, commenced making a 
hole in the wall. The whole night he continued 
his work. When it was near morning, the hole 
opened in the bed-room of the king. There he 
beheld the sovereign reposing on a golden bed, 
with all the world’s riches in the shape of gems 
and jewels lying scattered about him. Chi¬ 
nese tapestries were hanging all round, and cam¬ 
phor candles burning brightly, gave a glow to the 
treasures thrown about there. After a time, 
he beheld a monkey standing, dagger in hand, 
and watching the slumbers of the king. The 
thief wondered at the nature of the work the 
monkey was doing. A dagger, he thought, and 
in the hands of such a creature ! While he was 
yet musing, a great many ants fell from the 
ceiling on the king. Startled from sleep, he beat 
his hand on his breast. The monkey bending, 
saw the ants, “ While I am standing as guard,” 
he said, “ dare these creatures lay their feet on 
the bosom of my sovereign V ’ Aud raising the 
dagger, he was going to dash it on the ants, 
when the thief called out—“ Stop, fool! ruin not 
a world by thy folly,”—and rushing forward, held 
firm the creature’s hand. The king, roused 
from his slumbers, asked the thief who he was. 
“ A wise foe of yours,” was the answer, “ I came 
with the purpose of stealing; but if I had de¬ 
layed a minute in arresting the hand of this 
animal, who is really a foolish friend, you would 
never have awaked from your sleep again.” The 
king thanked him for ^is timely aid, and ob¬ 
served—“True, when God’s providence is watch- 
\ ing over us thieves turn to watchmen, and 



so 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


foes become kind. After this the thief was made i 
a courtier and the monkey sent to the stable. 

Moral. Cultivate the friendship of the wise; j 
but fly from foolish acquaintances. j 

Story LXIII. — The sick Lion , the Fox and j 
the Ass. —A lion having fallen sick of fever and j 
itch was unable to prey. His dependants also \ 
suffered much. At last a Fox, who had long I 
been a sharer of the royal county, made her ; 
appearance, and after enquiring about the king’s , 
health, informed him that all the animals of j 
the forest were dying of hunger. “Fox!” said j 
the lion, “ I am concerned about my troops ; but ; 
what cau I do ? This itch is daily pulling me J 
down : I have become leau and weak, and the \ 
hairs of my body are dropping off. Physicians 
have prescribed the heart and ears of an ass for } 
the cure of the disease : where can I get these 1” j 
“ What comes into my mind,” said the other, “ is j 
this, your majesty should not leave the forest; \ 
for any thing spoken against you to your J 
friends or foes will lower the prestige of your \ 
kingly dignity. In the neighbourhood of this J 
forest there is a fountain, .to which a washer- j 
man generally comes to wash clothes, which he I 
brings laid on an ass. This creature roves ; 
about the whole day round the fountain. I j 
shall try and persuade him to come with me. 
But promise first that when you have eaten the 
heart and ears, you will bestow the rest on the 
other carnivorous animals.” The lion agreed, and 
the fox departed on the mission. Sure enough 
she saw the ass, and began blessing, praising and j 
flattering him. At last she enquired about the j 
state of his troubles. The afflicted donkey see- j 
ing a sympathiser in the fox, said that the 
washerman was in the habit of overworking him, 
and that he cared little or nothing about his 
food. “Fool,” said Reynard, “legs you have, 
and cau walk also; why bear this ill-treatment i 
then?” “1 am notorious,” returned the ass, 

“ for carrying loads; wherever I go, the same j 
trouble awaits me. Besides, not I alone am, but i 
all my brethren are, treated in the same way. I 
think then to myself, that as release from afflic¬ 
tions is never to be gained, it is better to toil in 
the house of one, than to go about from door to j 
door, sinking under the evils of life.” “ You are ) 
quite wrong in your thoughts,” pursued the i 
fox, “ wrong in supposing that because you are j 
born here, you must for ever fag in this place. 1 
God has made the world spacious,—why ? For this j 
reason, that when one is afflicted and oppress- \ 
ed in one place, he may go to another.” “ Where- j 
ever one may go,” replied the ass, “ he will not \ 
get more than what he is destined for. Hence to j 
give way to covetousness, and to bear the fatigues 
of travelling, in addition to what I have already j 
suffered, are not wise proceedings.” “ These j 
words of reliance on destiny,” observed the fox, i 
“befit you not; you should try to live by your j 
efforts. If you are willing, I shall conduct you to j 
a green field, where grass is plentiful, and water j 
sweet r and near which the evils of life never ap¬ 


proach. Before this, I persuaded another ass, like 
yourself, to go thither, and he now grazes about 
leisurely and passes his days in ease.” By such 
wiles did the fox entrap the ass and bring him 
to the lion, who losing all patience, rushed to 
secure his prey. But weakness had overpowered 
him. The ass escaped with a wound. The fox 
astonished at the lion’s infirmity, reproached 
him for being precipitate, when slowness was so 
necessary. The lion did not relish this. He 
knew that if he put up with the fox’s reproaches 
his dignity would be lowered. Turning away his 
face from him, “ Dare a beggar,” he growled, 

“ hold converse with a king, and on matters of 
state too ? It is not every one who is made ac¬ 
quainted with regal secrets, nor can subjects 
comprehend the inscrutable designs of their 
rulers. Try now thy best to bring back the ass, 
and thou shalt be honored again.” The fox once 
more repaired to the ass. He turned away his 
face, and began reproaching her. “ Your show of 
kindness,” he observed, “ was but for the pur- 
pose of placing me in the lion’s power.” “ Fool!” 
said the fox, “ where are your thoughts roving ? 
If he was a real lion, could you have escaped 
from his clutches? Know, stupid, that sages 
have placed a talisman for the safety of the val¬ 
ley there, so that the inhabitants thereof may 
live in peace and tranquillity. This secret I do 
not disclose to any one but friends. You have 
been deceived by your fears. Return with me 
and enter the valley of bliss. I wished to have , 
told you the particulars, but forgot all about , 
the talisman in conversing with you.” The poor 
ass was taken in again. The fox brought him 
backhand going ahead gave the news to the lion, i 
advising him at the same time to remain stand- I, 
ing motionless, and allow the ass to go about, \ 
and not to look at him until an opportunity t 
offered for an attack. The lion did as desired, | 
and remained standing like a lifeless statue. | 
“ Look well at this lion,” said the fox, addressing , 
the ass, “ and you will find that your fears were ! 
groundless.” The ass advanced nearer, and j 
examined the supposed talisman very closely; [ 
but no life or motion could he find in it. He \ 
grew bolder, aud walked about the field ; and ( 
after feeding well, at last fell asleep. The lion , 
then made a rush, and tore open his stomach, i 
Desiring the fox to look to the remains, he went j 
to take a bath, after which he was to feed on the ( 
heart and the ears of the dead ass, as a cure t 
prescribed for his disease. The fox, availing her- i 
self of the opportunity, feasted on those delici- , 
ous parts herself. When the lion came back he ] 
searched for the heart and the ears; but no j 
trace could he find of either. “ What has be- a 
come of my share ?” he asked the fox. “ Mo- r 
narch,” replied the other, “ this ass had neither , 
heart nor ears; for if he possessed the one, j 
which is the seat of wisdom, he would not have ( 
hearkened to my words, and if he had the other, 
he would not have listened to my wily persua- | 
sions after having been wounded by you.” 









KHIRUD UFROZ. 


31 


Story XIV. —The Ascetic resolved to change \ 
is condition. —An Ascetic, after long considera- j 
ion, determined to marry, and consulted a wise J 
lan on the subject. “You have resolved right,” 
aid the other. “ Marriage has many advanta- I 
es. 1st. Lust can be curbed—and the wild desires 
rhich prove so strong in celibacy, reined in. 2nd. 
t is a pity that the germs of good qualities, j 
phich have descended to you from your ancestors, j 
hould end with you. 3rd. A virtuous woman f 
vould look to the affairs of your house and j 
mep you happy. But try to get one who is 
;oodnatured, and modest.” “ What must I seek 
n her ?” asked the ascetic. “ Search for one,” 
vas the answer, “ who is pious, and a friend of 
iscetics ; and then your honor will be safe with 
ler. Above all, avo.id three kinds of women :— 
st. Those who have left their first husbands, 
ind now live in thoughts of them. 2nd. Those 
vho oblige you with their arms and hands, and 
!rd. Those who on seeing you speak in a low 
one, and feign themselves sick.” “ Wise friend,” 
:ontinued the ascetic, “ speak something now 
•bout the age of females: of what age shall I 
uarry one 1” “ Of tender youth,” was the reply ; 

1 for intercourse with the old brings on sickuess 
,nd infirmity. “The wise have said, that women 
rom 14 to 20 are the sources of bliss and happi- 
less ; from 20 to 30 they can soothe the hearts 
)f their husbands ; from 30 to 40 collect wealth 
md rear up children ; from 40 to 50 assum^ a 
jreat deal of modesty, or become confirmed hy¬ 
pocrites. When past 50 they turn out to be the 
larkest plagues of life.” “ What about their 
ooks and beauty ?'’ asked the hermit. “ Modes- 
;y,” replied the other, “ and good nature, are the 
jhief charms of women. If in addition to 
;hese, she is handsome also, what more can 
>ne want; for she has both external and internal 
nerits ? A beautiful woman without virtue is 
;he plague of a man’s life; whereas a plain, but 
jood-natured one, can be the best of friends 
ind companions.” At last, after a long search, 
fortune aided our friend, the hermit, and 
lie succeeded in getting a beautiful girl, of a 
high family, for his wife. And now he wanted 
children. But years past away and he had 
none. Turning away from the world, he offered 
prayers to God; and morning and night 
petitioned Him for a child. At last his wife 
conceived. From that day, he had no 
thoughts but of the expected stranger. “May 
God grant,” he said, addressing his wife one 
day, “that we may soon have a beautiful boy. 

I shall call him by a fine name, and take pains 
in training him up in religion, till he will become 
a leader and guide of others. Then I shall 
marry him in some high family, and his progeny j 
will increase, and my name will be perpetuated j 
in this world through my children.” “Husband!” j 
observed the woman, “you do not talk like a j 
wise man. Have you had intelligence of the j 
birth of the child,—and supposing you have,— f 
is it a son? Granting even that, how do you j 


know that he will live? Now when all these 
circumstances are yet hidden in the Vtomb of 
the future, why talk ignorantly about them now? 
You appear to be something like the devotee 
who got ghee and honey dashed full on his face.” 
The ascetic started up and asked, “Pray what 
about him ?” His wife began :— 

Story LXV. The Fakir and the Merchant .— 
A fakir lived in the neighbourhood of a mer¬ 
chant, by whom he was fed and supported. The 
latter traded in ghee and honey, and a portion 
of this he daily sent to the devotee, who ate 
some and laid by some. At last, one day he 
found two vessels full, one with ghee and the 
other with houey. “ These,” he thought, “ I can 
sell for 10 drachms, from which, after defraying 
my own expenses, I will buy five goats. These 
will breed in six months,—each two kids at a 
time. Thus in a year I shall have twenty-five 
kids, (sic in orig.) which will eventually 
give me a flock in ten years’ time. From 
these I shall sell some for my support. I shall 
then marry a girl of a respectable family. After 
nine months, as a matter of course, a son will 
be born, whom I shall educate with the strictest 
regard for discipline. Any show of disrespect 
on his part, will be met with chastisement on 
mine, with this rod.” He was so lost in his own 
thoughts, that fancying the disrespectful boy to 
be standing before him, he laid, the rod on the 
vessels holding the ghee and honey, which were 
kept on a shelf, and breaking them, brought the 
contents of the same on his head, face and beard. 
This of course dissipated his thoughts. 

Story LXVI. The Monarch and the Mawlc. 
In ancient times a king much loved a hawk, who 
used always to sit on his master’s hand. One 
day he went out to hunt,—the hawk with him. 
By chance a deer came in sight. The king threw 
his horse after her, and succeeded at last in cap¬ 
turing her. His attendants, though riding after 
him, had not yet come up. In the meantime the 
king felt thirsty. Reaching at last the edge of the 
mountain, he beheld water dripping from a spring. 
Taking out a cup from his quiver, he held it out 
to let the water collect in it. When full, just 
; as the king was about to drink, the hawk 
i with one flap of its wings, knocked down the cup 
| and spilt the water. The king felt angry. He 
| again kept the cup, but just as he was going to 
( drink, again the hawk, by the same mode of pro¬ 
ceeding, knocked it down. Thirsty as he 
j was, he could bear no longer. He dashed the 
! hawk on the ground and killed him. At this 
| moment the groom came up; seeing the hawk 
dead and the king angry, he brought out 
water from his leathern bottle, and offered it 
to the king. “I would prefer that pure water 
from the spring,” said the monarch, “go to 
the mountain top and get me some. 1 feel 
very thirsty, and cannot wait long for the 
cup to fill drop by drop.” When the groom 
reached the top, he found a large serpent lying 
dead there, and his venom mixing with the water. 




32 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


He descended at once and told the king what he 
had seen, and then gave him drink. The king 
put the cup to his lips, burst out crying, and told 
the groom how he had killed the hawk. Much 
did he blame his own precipitate haste, and as 
long as he lived lamented the loss of the bird. 

Moral .—The wise never do any work without 
due deliberation. 

Stoky LXVII .—The Cat and the Rat .—There 
grew a tree in a certain forest, under which a cun¬ 
ning and cautious rat had made its hole. Near it 
also lived a cat. One day a fowler had laid his 
nets under the tree, and attached a piece of 
meat to it, the smell of which drew out the cat 
and placed her in the net. At that time the rat 
had also gone out of his hole in search of food. 
By chance his eyes fell on his enemy, and he 
was on the point of losing his senses, when he 
found that she was in the toils of the fowler. 
He thanked God, and blessed the fowler. Look¬ 
ing on the other side, he beheld an ichneumon 
lying in wait for him, and was obliged to go in 
the direction of the tree. On one of its branch¬ 
es sat a crow, ready to pounce upon him. 
The rat was overpowered with fear. He knew 
that if he advanced the cat would lay hold of 
him, that if he retraced his steps, the ichneu¬ 
mon would destroy him, and that if he remained 
stationary he would fall a prey to the voracity 
of the crow. Reason, he thought, was given to be 
employed in emergencies like these, and reason 
must now be called to devise some means of 
escape. She and she only was the most trust¬ 
worthy adviser. Truly wise was he who in 
days of trouble never lost courage, nor allowed 
his affairs to be ruined by wrong thoughts. 

“ It is best for me,” he said, “ to go up fear¬ 
lessly to the cat and try and conciliate her. ; 
If I am in distress at present, she too is in : 
a fix. If she would only hear me patiently, ; 
and place a proper construction on my mo- < 
fives; if she would place reliance on my as- | 
sertions, and give me credit for disinterested- \ 
ness; then, by the mercy of God, I can yet j 
hope for relief.” Going up to the cat at once, he j 
asked what she was doing there. “Enquire not j 
about my state,” returned the other, in a sor¬ 
rowful tone, “my body is entrapped and my 
soul is afflicted.” “ Grieve not” said the rat, “ if \ 
you will hear me, 1 shall tell you something.” ( 
The cat agreed. “ A falsehood you have never 
heard me utter,” began the rat, “and nothing j 
but truth finds admittance in my mind. You l 
know I always rejoiced in your distress, and j 
considered your affliction as a source of gratifi- j 
cation to myself; but to-day I am in danger as j 
well as yourself, and my safety depends on your f 
release. I therefore wish to become your friend, ' 
and thus ensure my own safety. Your prudence \ 
and wisdom, I hope, will believe the truth of ; 
what I say. If you have any doubt, just see '< 
there, the ichneumon is lying in wait for me, 
and the crow on the tree, sitting for a similar j 
purpose. Both are bent on my destruction. If j 


j then, you will come to terms, I shall approach 
< you, and thus escape falling into the clutches of 
l my enemies, and at the same time cut your 

( bonds and free you from the toils which hold 
you fast.” The cat heard these words, and was 
lost in musing, when the rat called out: “Oh 
wise creature ! time is passing; as I am willing 
to save your life, so do you also ensure my safe- 

I ty. The freedom of each depends on the safety 
of the other. We are in a similar condition as 
the rower and his boat; the latter reaches safe 
on shore by the endeavours of the former, who 
in his turn is saved and helped by the boat.” 
The cat at last prudently resolved to promise 
safety to the rat, and to become his friend. They 
then exchanged vows of amity. “ What am I to 
do to you 1” asked the cat. “ When I approach 
you,” replied the other, “ receive me with great 
respect, and treat me as an old friend would 
treat another. My enemies will see this and go 
; off disappointed ; I shall then deliberately cut 
| your bonds and release you.” The cat agreed to 
; these terms. The rat approached, and was re- 
: ceived with all possible kindness. Seeing this, 
the ichneumon and the crow went their several 
ways to search for food elsewhere. The rat 
then set about cutting the bonds «f the cat ; but 
recalling to mind that he was releasing a known 
enemy, he proceeded slowly with the work. 
The cat was not blind to what was passing in 
the other’s heart. Fearing lest she may be left 
in the lurch, she spoke in a- very friendly tone, 

“ Your safety is secured now, and your wish you i 
have obtained through me. Why do you hesi- I 
tate then in fulfilling your promise ? Why do f 
you wish to break your word ? I knew that faith | 
was a drug not procurable in this world’s dispen- j 
sary, and the right fulfilment of promise unattain- j 
able here; and I see now that the one is like the 
phoenix, existing only in name, and the other 
like the secrets of alchymy, with which no one 
is acquainted.” “ Never you think me wanting 
in faith,” replied the rat, and that moment he 
released the cat and ran to his own hole. 

Moral. The wise should never place blind 
reliance on the agreements of foes, nor on the 
amity of friends ; but consult reason on every 
occasion, and act according to her dictates ; for 
it was by her help that the weak and insignifi¬ 
cant rat prevailed over his strong foes. 

Stoky LXVIII. The reduced Farmer and his 
Wife. —In a district of Persia there lived a 
farmer much reduced in circumstances. His 
days he past in starvation, for though he under¬ 
stood the science of Agriculture, still his poverty 
did not allow him to put his theory into practice. | 
He had a wife, the handsomest woman of her 
age, to whom penury was anything but pleasing. I 
“ How long,” she asked her husband, in a tone ' 
of reproof, “how long will you stick to your 
hut, and keep me in poverty ? Better it is for you 
to go out in search of work, and perhaps you will 
succeed in getting it.” “ What you say is right,” 
returned the man ; “ I have spent an age in this 








KHIRUD HFROZ. 


S3 


listrict, living respectably, and its inhabitants I 
lave beeu my workmen. Now I cannot do j 
lught but work, and to be employed by those 
vho were once my servants is what I cannot i 
>ear. If you think it advisable, I shall leave / 
;his country and serve in foreign parts.” The ; 
vife, who was hardly pressed by penury, agreed ! 
;o the proposal, and they both set out in the J 
iirectiou of Bagdad. One day, fatigued with ; 
the journey, they sat in the shade of a tree f 
conversing. The man became thoughtful on a \ 
3 udden, and addressing his wife, said: —“ Friend j 
of my heart! I have left my native land, and am ; 
going to a country -Where no one knows me, and j 
where I know no one. Perhaps we will meet j 
tyrants or licentious characters, one of whom 
may become enamoured of your charms, and 
take you away; and you too, tired of poverty, 
may agree to leave me ; then, in that case, what 
can I do but die V’ “ What thoughts are these?” 
returned the wife, “ if I had such intentions, 

I would not have come on with you, leaving my 
home and my native land far behind. The ; 
vows I have made to you I shall never forget. < 
Neither the force of tyrants, nor the guile ; 
of artful men, will induce me to prove false. 1 
Those vows, if you wish, I shall renew.” In a 
word she did make promises to the following 
effect:—“ If I shall die before you, it will be a 
source of great happiness to me, for which I 
shall be duly grateful to God. But if on the con¬ 
trary, you will be called away first, I shall sacri¬ 
fice my life and follow you. Nevertheless, if 
fate wills otherwise, and I be ordained to live a 
little longer, be sure that I shall pass my days 
in sad remembrance of you. These promises I 
shall never forget.” The farmer, much pleased 
with these assurauces, laid his head on the lap of 
his beloved partner and fell asleep. Before 
many hours had passed, a king who had gone 
out to hunt, and who had parted compauy with 
his attendants, came wandering that way. The 
moment the woman’s eyes fell on his counte¬ 
nance, her heart was lost. The youth also was 
attracted by her extraordinary beauty, and 
approaching, asked who she was, and why 
was she there ! “ Prince!” answered the woman 
with a sigh, “ how can I recount the tale of 
my distress to you ? This old man, sleeping 
here, is my husband ; my lot is eternal misery ; 
and what the joys of life are, I know not."’ 
« Is it possible,” asked the king, “ that you, with 
such loveliness, are the wife of this old wretch ? 
and possessing the treasure of beauty, that a lot of 
poverty is yours ? Come with me, I shall place you 
on the throne of glory, and make you the queen 
of my dominions.” With the characteristic 
faithlessness of the sex, the woman forgot the 
vows she had made to her husband, and expressed 
herself ready to accompany her princely lover. 
The youth finding her willing desired her not to 
lose time. “ Come along!” he said, “ I'll hold you 
on the saddle before me, and by the time the 
old fogy wakes, we shall be out of sight. The 


woman immediately put down her husband’s 
head from her lap, and getting on the horse, sat 
behind the young man, holding his loins with 
both her hands. The farmer awoke just that 
moment, and beholding his wife on horse-back 
with a stranger became very indignant. “ Faith¬ 
less !” he called out, “ what art thou doing 1 Is 
this conduct of thine compatible with the vows 
thou hast made ? Fearest thou not the punish¬ 
ment which will be inflicted on thee for thy 
faithlessness V' “ Do not be making a row,” 
exclaimed the wife. “ The fair are never faithful.” 
Then turning to her paramour, she desired him 
to make a start at once. The king obeyed, and 
in a minute they were out of the farmer’s sight. 
The poor old fellow, weeping and wailing, went 
running after them, all the while cursing the infi¬ 
delity of the sex. Persuaded by her, he thought, 

I left home to undergo the fatigues of travel. 
Now I have neither the face (lit.) to go back, nor 
the strength to run. after them. I really do not 
know what will become of me.” In the mean- 
! time, the king and the woman had gone ahead 
; and drawing near a fountain, had alighted from 
1 the horse, and were reposing in the shade of a 
| tree. They then rose, and enjoyed each other’s 
| society, after which the woman urged by a call 
of nature was retiring into an adjacent forest, 
when a lion emerged therefrom and bore her off. 

| The king heard the animal’s growl, and getting 
on his horse urged it to speed, all the time that 
his mistress was struggling in the lion’s clutches, 
and paying dearly for her faithlessness. The old 
j man, now made his appearance, and tracing the 
f footsteps of his wife, went into the forest, where 
| he found her mangled remains, half devoured by 
> the lion. Thus he thought is faithlessness puu- 
! ished in the world. 

I 1 Moral. They who turn away from fidelity, 

bring all the miseries of life on themselves. 

Story LXIX .—The Frog and the Rat .—On the 
banks of a fountain, a rat had made his hole 
under a tree. A frog also lived in the water, 
and would often come ashore, and sing his charm¬ 
ing songs, which had the effect of pleasing the 
i rat, who would clap hands and shake his head at 
\ the melody. This flattered the frog’s vanity, 

I 'i and he wished to be acquainted with his admirer. 

Reason told him not to seek the friendship of 
\ one who was not of the same species as himself ; 

\ for all such intimacies are weak and temporary. 
\ But as fools hearken not to the voice of Reason, 
the frog made his advance, and in a very short 
time they two became great friends, and lived as 
such. Freely would they converse on the most 
interesting topic. One day the rat said to the 
frocr, “ Friend! when my heart is pleased I wish 
^ to "disclose my secrets to you, and relieve my 
j heart by telling you all; but just at that moment 
f you are under water. If 1 call out, you cannot 
\ hear on account of the water’s roar, and if I ex- 
; claim loudly, the noise of the frogs drowns the 
\ sound. How is this to be remedied 1 I wish to 
; devise means which would inform you of my ar- 

K. 




34 


KHIRUD UFUOZ. 


rival the moment I would draw near the water.” j 
“What you say is true, observed the frog, “I often j 
think of much the same thing. When my friend- ) 
comes for me, I say, how shall I be informed of j 
his approach : and if he waits for me, how shall \ 
I excuse myself for detaining him 1 And it some- ! 
times happens that when I come near your hole, j 
you go out by some other way. About this, j 
I had thought of complaining to you ; but you 
have forestalled me. To devise means to remedy 
the evils complained of, I leave to you; for the 
wise only can accomplish such a task success¬ 
fully.” “ That I can do,” said the rat, “ I have 
already thought of a plan. I shall get a long 
bit of string one end of which I shall tie to your 
leg and the other end to mine. When I shall 
come near the water, I shall shake the string, 
and when you draw near my hole you can do 
the same.” This plan they adopted, and from 
that day each became acquainted with the 
other’s movements. One day the rat, deter¬ 
mined to have an hour’s conversation with his 
friend, the frog, approached the shore, when a 
crow pounced down and bore him away. The 
string being very strong, the frog also was pulled 
out of the water. As the crow flew on with the 
rat in his bills—the frog was dragged along, and 
a concourse of people assembled every where to 
see the novel fun of a crow making a frog his 
prey. “He is not my prey,” called out the 
crow, “ but companionship with the rat has 
placed him in his present predicament.” 

Moral. He who cultivates friendship with a 
creature of another species, will be punished in 
a like manner. 

Story LXX .—The King and his Bird .—A 
king named Ben Maden, had a strong liking for a 
bird, who was not only good-looking and good-na¬ 
tured, but extremely wise at the same time. The 
king would always converse with her, highly 
pleased with the apposite answers she would 
return. All on a sudden, the bird laid eggs 
in the king’s Council-chamber, and hatched°a 
young. This the king placed in charge of his 
servants and enjoined them to be very careful of 
their trust. The same day a son was born to the 
queen. When the prince grew up, he and the 
birdling became great friends. The one would 
always play with the other. The mother bird 
made it a point with her, every day to go to the 
woods, where were to be found fruits which 
men could not get, and bring two of them ; one 
for the priuce and another for her own young. 

Iu a short time, they both grew up strong, and 
the bird was more honored on account of her 
services. One day, when the mother-bird was 
absent, the young flew and perched on the hand 
of the prince, and scratched it with his bill. 
This annoyed the latter, and he dashed it on 
the ground with such force that he died. When 
the mother returned, and found her young dead, 
sorrow for her lost offspring nearly killed her. 

She thought to herself that she had brought 1 
on this calamity. She should have built her | 


nest on some tree-branch not in the.king’s Coun¬ 
cil-chamber. She should have l’emained con¬ 
tent with little, and thus escaped misfortune. 
In this way, she spoke much against the faith¬ 
lessness of worldly men, and reproved herself 
much for her covetousness. Afflicted beyond 
measure, and thirsting for vengeance, she attack¬ 
ed the prince, and after plucking out his eyes flew 
away to the hou9e-top. The king wept bitterly 
when he heard the news, and resolved to entrap 
the bird and punish her for her presumption. 
Standing opposite the terrace, “Friend!” he 
said, “come down. If you have blinded my 
child in revenge for the death of thy young one, 
it matters not. Now do not destroy my happi¬ 
ness nor afflict me with thy absence.” “ King ! ” 
returned the bird, “ sages have told me to 
shun men, who consider their evil deeds small, 
and the faults of others great. Covetousness 
and your friendship drew me away from the so¬ 
ciety of the great of my kind, and I left my 
native land to come and serve you. I had vow¬ 
ed to be in your service for the rest of my life, 
when lo ! for a small fault, your child has des¬ 
troyed my young. I was then reminded of the 
sayings of the wise. Now I do not intend to 
meet you. If I were sure of life, perhaps I would, 
once more; but to try him anew who is alrea¬ 
dy tried is going beyond the sphere of wisdom. 
Have you not heard that the wise never try a 
thing twice! No one puts his hand in a ser¬ 
pent’s hole. Besides your Majesty knows well 
that it is folly on the part of a criminal to be 
fearless of life: if he escape punishment for a 
time, eventually he is sui’e to- come in for it; and 
should he, however, die before that, his children 
and his relations will suffer for him ; for ven¬ 
geance is dear to man—nay, to all animals. 
Now that I have avenged my offspring, and pun¬ 
ished the prince, I am not in a humour to place 
myself in your power. If you have- not heard 
it before, I shall first relate to you a story—• 
Story LXXI.— The Fakir and the Robber. 
In the city of Rokba lived a wise and holy fakir 
named Danadil, (Wise heart) who was much 
esteemed by the great and the good. Determined 
to gain the grace of God, he set out on a jour¬ 
ney, unattended and alone, to live a life of 
poverty and suffering. A band of robbers, sus¬ 
pecting him to be a rich personage, followed 
him with the intention of destroying him. Al¬ 
though he explained to the thieves that he was i 
poor, they believed him not; and though he 
tried to counsel them, his efforts were all of no 
avail. The fakir was powerless. No one was 
there to assist him. At that moment a com¬ 
pany of birds were flying that way. “Birds,” 
called out the dervesh, “I am being killed by rob¬ 
bers here. For God’s sake do not forget to 
avenge me.” The thieves laughed and asked 
his name. “ Danadil,” was the answer. “ Well 
you are wise iu name only,” observed the robbers. 

“ We think it no harm to kill fools.” In a word 
they murdered him, and took away all that he 





KHIRUD UFROZ. 


35 


had. When the intelligence of his destruction 
reached the citizens, they much regretted his fate, 
and set enquiries on foot to discover his murder¬ 
ers. At last, one day, on the festival of Fed, a 
host of people assembled in the mosque, and 
amongst them were the murderers of the der- 
vesh. Just that moment a flight of birds came in 
sight. They alighted, and flying round the heads 
of the guilty, made a peculiar kind of noise. 
One of the party assured the others, that these 
men were the murderers, and that the birds had 
come to claim vengeance for the blood of Dana- 
dil. Thus they talked among themselves, un¬ 
til the king came to hear of it. He immediate¬ 
ly sent the men to prison, where they confess¬ 
ed their crime. Justice then overtook them, 
and they were hanged. 

Story LXXII. The old woman and her beau¬ 
tiful daughter. —An old woman had a very beau¬ 
tiful daughter, who happened to fall sick of 
violent fever. The mother went about like one 
distracted, exclaiming: “ Soul of thy mother! 
may my life be sacrificed to save thine!” 
Morning and evening would she pray, saying: 
“God spare this young creature, and take away in¬ 
stead of her, this old woman, tired of life.” 
Such in fact was the burden of her prayers 
night and day. By chance, a cow belonging to 
her, returned from the fields one day, and going 
direct into the kitchen, put her head in a soup- 
pot. The contents she drank up, but when she 
tried to pull out her head from the pot, she found 
it to be an impracticable job. With the vessel 
crowning her, she went about from room to room, 
till the old woman’s eyes fell on her uncouth fi¬ 
gure. She was frightened out of her wits, and 
remembered that the angel of death, according 
to popular belief, comes to take away the souls 
of persons; and fancying that the figure before 
her was the identical angel, come to take away 
the soul of her daughter, “ Spirit! ” she called 
out, “ I am not the young woman, I am a poor 
industrious dame. If you have come to take 
away my daughter, she is inside. Go thither 
and spare me.” 

Story LXXIII. The Scholar and his envious 
Teacher. —A king had an excellent singer in his 
service. Him he loved dearly, and was always 
gratified with his songs. This man had a slave 
in his tuition, who in time excelled his teacher 
in the art of singing and playing. When the 
king heard of his proficiency, he had him care¬ 
fully educated, and in a very short time, he be¬ 
came the first person of his age. As fools are 
always short-sighted, the teacher envied his 
pupil to such an extent, that the first opportu¬ 
nity occurring, he killed that Tansen of his day. 
When the king heard this news, he sent for 
the murderer, with a view of punishing him. 
When he was brought before him, the monarch 
with voice trembling with rage, asked : “ Know- 
est thou not that I am a lover of pleasure, which 
was secured to me by thy singing and the slave’s 
playing ? Why then hast thou killed my slave 


; and robbed me of half my pleasure ? I order now, 
\ that thou drink of the same bitter cup which 
j the slave has been made to drink by thee, so that 
\ the rest may see and take warning” “King!” 

; replied the singer, “ I have done wrong in rob- 
| bing you of half your pleasure ; but if you order 
/ me to be killed, you will rob yourself of the 
whole.” The king was pleased with the answer, 

I and spared his life. 

Story LXXIV. The Physician and his Patient. 
A person complaining of a severe colic, repaired 
to a physician, and there began rolling on the 
ground, and calling for medicine. The doctor 
| enquired of his companions what he had eaten 
j that day. A piece of burnt bread, was the re¬ 
ply. “Very well,” said the physician, “ bring 
me that medicine which improves the power of 
vision, and I shall apply it to this man’s eye.” 
“ What fun is this ?” shrieked the patient, “ is 
this the time for cracking jokes ? I am dying of 
i a colic, and you are prescribing applications for 
the eye; what has the stomach to do with the 
> eye.?” “I wish,” said the doctor, coolly, “to 
| improve thy eye-sight, so that thou mayest be 

I able in future to discover white from black, and 
never eat burnt bread again. Thy eyes are first 
to be attended to, and then thy stomach.” 

Story LXXY.— Folly of Rebellion exposed. 
One of the ministers of the king of Taberistan 
had the misfortune of becoming a rebel. The king 
very kindly wrote to him, advising him to forego 
disaffection; but as Fortune was frowning on him, 
he paid no heed to the royal counsel. The king 
then sent word to him, saying, “I and you are 
like glass and stone. Whether the glass hits the 
stone, or vice versa the glass is sure to break.” 

Story LXXVI— The Ascetic and the wolf. 
As a prudent and far-seeing ascetic was going 
through a forest, he saw a covetous wolf lying in 
wait for some innocent animal, whom he would 
deprive of life. The holy man opened his mouth 
and advised the wolf thus: “Take care, never 
attack the poor innocent goats of other people; 
for they who covet the goods of others are sure 
to be ruined.” “ Keep your advice to yourself,” 
said the wolf;” there’s a herd of goats grazing in 
| yonder valley: I should not like to lose an op- 
| portunity of getting one of them ; for if I do, I 
1 shall be for ever sorry afterwards. 

| Story LXXVII. The Arab and the Baker. 

I An Arab, who had first come to the city of Bag¬ 
dad, saw a pile of loaves in a baker’s shop, and 
felt himself tempted to get some. The poor fel- 
| low, who had hitherto lived on the smell of loaves, 

' now, when he saw the reality, lost all patience, 

| and going up to the baker, “Friend!” he said, 
“ what will you take for giving me a belly-full 
f of bread?” The baker fancying him to be like 
| other men, and thinking that the most he could 
eat would be two or three loaves, answered :— 
“ Pay me half a deenar and eat as much as you 
can.” Whereupon the Arab sat on the banks 
i of a rivulet, the baker brought the loaves, and 
| he commenced soaking them in water and eating 



36 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


them one after another. Half a deenar’s worth ( 
was soon consumed, and then a dirhem’s and j 
then a whole deenar’s ; but still he continued eat- 
ing, upon which the baker, losing his temper, j 
exclaimed : “ Arab ! how much will you eat 1 ” ! 
“ As long as this water will run,” returned the \ 
other, “ I shall continue eating.” j 

Moral. As long as we live, we shall never be j 
free from cares and fears. \ 

Story LXVIII. —The Jackal and his Compa- \ 
nions. In Hindoostan there lived a jackal | 
named Fureesa, who overcoming all carnal de- ; 
sires had retired to seclusion, to live in total ab- \ 
stinence from carnage and bloodshed. His re- 1 
latives and friends, who were on visiting terms j 
with him, asked him, “ Why is it that you are l 
living thus ? If you have torn youi’self from our \ 
affection, we can excuse that; but why have / 
you abandoned our habits, to live a life of trou- ! 
ble ? Abstaining from all the pleasures of this j 
world is far from wise.” “ If you know,” re- j 
turned the jackal, “ that the past cannot be re- j 
called, and that the wise never rely on the future, \ 
you will admit that it is wise to spend the pre- j 
sent iu serving and fulfilling the behests of the j 
Almighty. If you cannot do this, and if temp- j 
tations are too strong for you, why talk to me \ 
like fools, who only think of their bellies. Go \ 
in peace, and leave all thoughts of me. Let me J 
spend my days as I am doing now until this mor- | 
tal frame shall fall and pass away.” “ Fureesa !” 
pursued his companions, “ if God had willed that ( 
man should abstain from the good things of this j 
world, why then did he create those things 1 ” j 
“ Whatever is approved by reason,” answered j 
the other, “ is good; not that which your senses 
approve of. Why for the sake of temporary plea¬ 
sure deprive another of life ? God has created 
many other things for you. Live on, and he sa- ) 
tisfied with those. If in acting unreasonably, ' 
you meet with opposition from me ; blame me j 
not.” His friends liked his words, ceased re- \ 
proving, made him their leader, and lived follow- j 
ing his counsels. He too, in time became re- ; 
nowned for his wisdom and piety. 

_ Story LXXIX.— The Durwesh and the Confec- j 
tioner. A Durwesh who used to live a life of j 
contentment, was one day walking about in the j 
street, when a confectioner, who liked piety, be- i 
held him, and invited him to his shop, to profit ] 
by his instructions. The man of God heard the j 
call and entered the shop. The confectioner 
placed a plate full of honey before him, wheu 
flies, as is their wont, fell in a body upon it, 
some alighting on the borders of the plate, and i 
some right on the honey itself. The confec- j 
tioner shook his flappers to drive them. Those j 
who were on the borders of the plate flew off j 
easily ; whereas those who were in the midst 
got entangled in the honey and lost their lives. ; 
The man of God laughed and was lost in thoughts, j 
When he came to himself, the confectioner asked j 
■what had pleased him ? “ Brother !” he answered, j 
“ I compare the plate to the world, the honey [ 


to its pleasures, and the flies to men of the 
world who have bellies to fill. Now those who 
sat on the border, are like free men, who are 
placed by fate in this world, but who do not 
much value its pleasures, preferring to live con¬ 
tent on little. Now, remember, when the whisk 
of death will be shaken, those who have content¬ 
ed themselves with little, will easily escape from 
the sphere of distress ; whereas those, who exclu¬ 
sively valuing its sweets, which lead to bitter¬ 
ness, have turned away from God, will be dis¬ 
graced and punished.” 

Story LXXX .—The Prince of China and the 
King of Bagdad .—The prince of China, thought 
of embarking on a voyage to see the wonders of 
creation. Bidding adieu to his father, he and 
his companions went on board a vessel, resolved 
to visit distant lands. When he reached Bagdad, 
the king of that city received and treated him 
very hospitably and in return for all his kind 
courtesy, received a Chinese slave-girl from the 
prince, who then proceeded towards Khorassan. 
The ruler of Bagdad, the moment that he beheld 
the slave-girl, fell in love with her, and thence¬ 
forward lived in her company, forgetful of the 
affairs of the empire, and regardless of the op¬ 
pressions which were being practised on his 
subjects. The devout and pious of the realm 
prayed to God that the sovereign may be roused 
from his lethargy, and attend to the wants of his 
people. One night the negligent monarch be¬ 
held a saintly personage in his dream, and heard 
the following words :—“ What is this that thou 
art doing % Why hast thou shut thine ears to the 
complaints of the poor? It is near that power 
may be lost, and wealth and rank depart from 
thee. Awake ! and attend to affairs of state.” I 
The king started up and woke. From the next 
day he was aroused to a sense of duty, busied 
himself in the administration of justice, and or- 
deredthe slave never to be brought into his cham¬ 
ber, although his heart was still hers. Giving 
place to the fear of God, he tried by all means 
possible to escape from the fasciuatiou which the 
lovely slave was sure to exercise. But she could 
not bear absence from her royal lover, aud dis¬ 
obeying all orders, presented herself once more 
in his apartments. The king again lost his 
heart, affairs of state were again completely 
neglected, aud love, and love alone attended to, 
until he was once more aroused to what was his 
duty. He then saw, that there was no other 
way of escape but by killing the slave. Sending 
for one of his coufidants, he informed him that 
the female had disobeyed orders, and was there¬ 
fore to be drowned in the river. The courtier 
thinking that she was the king’s mistress, thought 
it best to defer carrying the order into execution, j 
lest the king, on recalling his words, may have to 
repent. After the lapse of some days, the so- 1 
vereign actually felt the pangs of absence, and so 
much was he affected, that he was actually be¬ 
coming deranged. One night the confidant seeing 
the state of the sovereign only getting worse, 






KHIRUD UFROZ. 


37 


restored the beautiful object of his affections to ; 
him, and him to life and love. In short, three 
times did the king order her to be executed, and j 
three times did.the confidant postpone it. One j 
day, he was busy administering justice, and 
hearing the complaints of the poor, but his j 
thoughts being all centred on his charmer, he j 
was very much distracted in his proceedings. I 
At last, he thought that there was nothing left \ 
but to execute his purpose with his own hands. 
Standing then on the top of his terrace, his \ 
beautiful mistress with him, and the river flow- \ 
iug just below, he resolved to sacrifice his own ' 
comfort for the good of his subjects ; and calling ; 
the slave to him he pushed her into the stream, \ 
and feigned as if he himself was about to follow ! 
her. He then ordered every effort to be made 
to save her : but fruitless all; and he gave him¬ 
self up to grief. He had one consolation, how¬ 
ever. He knew he was guilty of shedding inno- i 
cent blood, but then he did it for the public ] 
good. The destruction of one, ensured the hap- 
piness of thousands. 

Story. LXXXI. The envious Man. In the ) 
city of Bagdad, in the immediate neighbourhood 
of an envious man, lived a pious devotee, whom 
people greatly venerated, and whom they often j 
came to visit.. The envious man was of course j 
greatly afflicted at seeing his neighbour honored 
and respected, and laying aside the dictates of 
reason, busied himself in devising plans how to 
harass and molest him. All his tricks, however, 
failed to gain the object in view. At last he ] 
bought a slave, showed him great kindness, and i 
gave him as many presents as he could, j 
Often would he tell him in private. “ I am rear- j 
ing thee up for a difficult enterprise ; I hope J 
thou wilt answer my expectations, and ease my j 
heart of its anxieties.” When several years had i 
elapsed, and when the honesty and fidelity of * 
the slave was established, he disclosed his secret j 
thus :—“ My life has become a burden to me on j 
account of this neighbour of mine. I have tried j 
my best to ruin him, but to no purpose. Bitter j 
indeed is existence to me. Now I have reared | 
thee up with a purpose, which is this: take j 
me to-night to my neighbour’s house, kill me 
there and come away. Next morning the peo- j 
pie will find me dead, they will accuse him of j 
murder, and thus his fame and reputation will j 
be ruined.” “ My good sir,” replied the slave, j 
give up such thoughts and devise some other j 
plan : you dislike that devotee, well, I shall kill j 
him, and relieve you.” “ That will not do,” con- $ 
tinued the other, “ perhaps you will not be able to 
overcome him, and then, again, an opportunity 
is to be waited for ; while I have not a grain of 
patience left. Come then, and as bound by the j 
laws of servitude, obey me. Here is a note of j 
manumission for thee, and here a purse of gold, j 
which will suffice to keep thee comfortable for the j 
remaining days of thy life. Kill me, and go off to i 
some other city, where you can live independent- j 
ly.” “ Sir,” observed the slave, “ no wise man \ 


would act as you wish to do. Revenge is sweet 
in this life alone, when you are dead yourself, 
what pleasure will you feel in the destruction of 
your enemy?” Words to this effect from the 
slave were of no avail, however. At last, when he 
saw that his master was determined to carry his 
resolve into execution, he took him on his neigh¬ 
bour’s terrace, beheaded him there, and decamp¬ 
ed with the letter and purse for Ispahan. In 
the morning the murdered remains were found, 
and the devotee taken up on suspicion and put 
iu prison ; but as every one in Bagdad knew him 
to be a good, virtuous man, the charge of mur¬ 
der could not be brought home to him, and thus 
he lived in confinement. At last a famous mer¬ 
chant of Bagdad paid a visit to Ispahan, and 
there came in contact with the slave, who recog¬ 
nised him and enquired about his master and 
his neighbours. The merchant recounted all, 
how his master had been killed, and how his pi¬ 
ous neighbour was in distress. The slave could 
hold no longer. He confessed that he was the 
murderer; but at the same time, he gave the 
particulars connected with the case. The mer¬ 
chant on his return to Bagdad, waited on the go¬ 
vernor, and having established the innocence 
of the devotee, had him released from confine¬ 
ment. 

Story LXXXII. The offending Door-Keeper 
pardoned. A king of Yemen, displeased with his 
door-keeper, had made his house a prison for 
him. At last hard prest by penury, the man re¬ 
solved to attempt a deed which would either 
cost him his life or restore him to sufficiency. 
On the nowroz then, when the king was holding 
a royal durbar, he presented himself before his 
master, drest in robes of state, which he had 
borrowed of a friend. The attendants also let 
him pass, fancying the king had granted a 
free pardon to him. Just as he entered, the 
wine-cups were circulating, and a merry dis¬ 
play of wit was kept up on all sides in the royal 
circle. The king felt angry at seeing him ; but 
he did not think it wise to break the harmony 
of the meeting by any show of displeasure. He 
therefore turned aside his attention to the imme¬ 
diate duties of hospitality. The door-keeper 
very ardently performed his work, and at last an 
opportunity offering, walked off with a valuable 
plate. The king saw the deed, but thinking 
that poverty may have been the cause of his 
crime, he resolved to exercise his good nature, 
and remain silent on the point. By the time the 
party broke up, the plate was missed, and sever¬ 
al persons taken upon suspicion of the theft. The 
king, on being informed of the circumstance, or¬ 
dered them to be released, saying—“He who 
has taken it will not give it back, and he who 
saw the deed done, will not disclose the name of 
the thief.” The next year, on the anniversary of 
the nowroz a similar grand party assembled at 
the king’s palace, and among others, was the 
door-keeper. The king saw him and beckoning 
him to his side, “ Perhaps the proceeds of the 



38 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


plate haeve ben all spent,” he said in a low tone. 

“ Protector of the world,” returned the other, 
bowing his head to the ground, “ what I did, I 
did purposely, in hopes that I would be detected 
aud punished, for I had worked hard for my fa¬ 
mily ; but penury weighed heavy on us all. On 
the other hand, if I pass unnoticed, I thought, I 
shall be able to live comfortably for some time. 
The king admitted the truth of his assertion, 
and pardoned him. 

Story LXXXIII. The Lion and ilie Lynx .— 
In the vicinity of Aleppo there was a forest 
full of trees. Fountains also were to be seen 
in some places. A lion, who was a great tyrant, 
and who had shed the blood of many an inno¬ 
cent creature, was the king there. A lynx, one 
of his courtiers, could not bear to see such 
oppressions practised. He resolved to quit the 
service of the lion, and retire to some solitary 
place. But how to speak out the truth he knew 
not, and yet he could witness injustice no longer. 
While he was still uncertain in regard to his 
future proceedings, he on a sudden beheld a rat 
boring a hole in the trunk of a tree, which was 
thus complaining:—“Tyrant ! why art thou try¬ 
ing to uproot me 1” Regardless of this, the rat 
went on with his work, when a serpeut made a 
rush at him and swallowed him up. The lynx 
learnt from this, that oppressors were sure to be 
punished. While the serpent was quietly sit¬ 
ting after his repast, a hedge-hog came, and 
taking his tail in his mouth sheltered himself 
behind his quills. The serpent dashed himself 
on the animal, but the 'result of his struggle 
was, that his whole body was perforated by the 
quills, and he died in great agony. This was a 
second warning for the lynx. When the serpent 
was dead, the hedge-hog feasted on his remains, 
and then hid himself behind his quills. The 
lynx was yet looking on when a famished fox 
made his appearance, and seeing the hedge-hog 
knew it to be a delicious morsel; but how to 
manage the quills 1 By some artifice however, 
he overturned the hedge-hog and defiled his 
back. He, fancying that it was raining, pushed 
out his head, when the fox rushed on him and 
killed him. He then feasted on his remains, 
and left nothing but skin and bones. Scarce 
had he dispatched his dinner, when a dog attack¬ 
ed him aud tore him to pieces. He in his turn 
was destroyed by a leopard, and the latter by a 
hunter, who flayed him immediately. But before 
he had time to secure the prize, another horse¬ 
man came up, and tried to get the skin by force. 
The result was that they came to blows, and the 
hunter was killed, The other took away the 
prize and was riding home, when his horse trip¬ 
ped, and the rider came to the ground dislocating 
his neck. The lynx was filled with awe at sight 
of these occurrences. He lost no time in pre¬ 
senting himself before the lion, and asked his 
permission to depart from the forest. “ In my . 
service,” said the lion, “you have hitherto j 
lived in ease; what induces you now to retire j 


j therefrom V’ —“ Protector of the world !” an- 
{ swered the lynx, “a thought has occurred to 
] me, which I think it a sin to conceal from you ; 

\ and yet in disclosing it, I endanger my life. If 

< you would vow not to harm me, I shall make a 

< clean breast of it.” The lion did as desired, and 
swore he would abide by his promise. “ King,” 

< then began the lynx, “all your thoughts have 
j reference to the persecution of animals—all 

< your efforts are directed to their bloodshed ; 

| with consideration you never act, nor is there 

I < any one bold enough to counsel or dissuade you.” 
The lion did not relish these words. He was about 
to be angry, when recalling his promise to mind, 
he held his peace, and asked, “ But why do you 
wish to retire when your safety is secure ?” 

“ For two reasons,” was the answer. First, be¬ 
cause I can neither bear to see oppression prac- 
<, tised. nor take the part of the persecuted ; and 
> secondly, lest when vengeance fall on you, I may 
be brought in also for my share of retribution.” 

\ “ You have seen the world !” observed the lion, 

\ “ but you have never experienced evil; and as 
\ for retribution, who has taught you that word ?” 
j “ King !” returned the other, “ he who is blest 
< with reason, is able to learn in a moment what 
it takes the generality, years to understand. Be¬ 
sides, it is known to all, that he who sows the 
seed of evil, is sure to gather bitterness and 

! < distress; whereas he who plants the tree of 
good, will profit by the fruits of gain. This 
world, which is a scene of retribution, is com¬ 
pared by the wise to an echoing mountain— 
whatever you say, whether good or evil, the 
same sound is echoed back to you. These facts 
I understood long ago; but how evil is imme¬ 
diately punished, I have lately seen.” He then , 
recounted the story of the rat, the serpent, the ! 
hedge-hog, &c. But the lion was far from pro¬ 
fiting by his advice. When the lynx found that 
< the integrity of his words was misconstrued, he 
; rose and slowly retired. The lion, now fierce 
< through rage, went in quest of him; but the 
l latter had hid himself in a thick bush. The 
5 lion came up to the spot, and passed on, 

> when he beheld a deer caressing two of her 
< young ones, after whom he immediately ran. 

> “ Monarch,” shrieked the mother, “ what will 
you gain by killing my young ? Let not my eyes 
weep and my heart groan in their absence. 

< Remember you have young ones also; and 
\ what you intend doing to mine, may befal thine 
, also.” Regardless of her cries, however, the 
l lion devoured her young. The deer, deeply j 
j afflicted, was running about the forest, when ! 
\ all on a sudden she beheld the lynx, and burst 
out into loud cries. The lynx comforted her as 
much as he could, and assured her, that in a ; 
short time, the lion would be punished for his 
deeds. It happened that this tyrannical beast, 
had two cubs whom he loved very dearly; and 
at the moment that he was feeding on the 
young of the deer, some hunters entered his 
cave, killed his cubs, and went off with their 






KHIRUD UFROZ. 


39 


skins. When the lion returned, he found his 
young slain, whereupon he set up such loud 
lamentations that all the beasts of the forest 
were astonished. An abstemious wolf, who lived 
in the neighbourhood, came to condole with him, 
bade him be patient, for no one in this world 
had passed without grief. “ Protector of the 
world !” he continued, “ open your ears and hear. 

I shall speak to you about the works of God, 
as well as of the unfaithfulness of this world.” 
The lion heard her words, and was somewhat 
consoled. The wolf seeing herself successful 
thus far, boldly went forward and said :—“ Mo¬ 
narch ! every beginning has an end, and when 
the time comes ’tis all over in a second. After 
grief comes joy, after gain, loss. In all circum¬ 
stances, it is always the best to rely on God. 
Loud complaints indicate a weak mind.” “ Wise 
as you are,” said the lion, “ your words are true, 
and I shall never lose patience in future. But 
every evil that occurs can always be accounted 
for. Now tell me, why my youDg ones have been 
destroyed?” “That’s easy enough,” remarked j 
the lynx, “ what you did to others, the hunters £ 
did to yours.” j 

Moral. What you do to others, shall be done \ 
to you. 

Story LXXXIV. The Oppressor. —In ancient 
times there lived an oppressor, who had made 1 
it a practice to purchase wood from the poor 
at very low prices, and sell it again to the rich j 
very high. The rich as well as the poor were j 
sadly distressed at these proceedings of his, 
One day he took away wood from an old and J 
helpless beggar, and paid him half the price due. 
The man wept and cried, and prayed to Heaven 
to punish the tyrant. A pious devotee heard j 
his complaints, and waiting on the oppressor, j 
counselled him thus Oppression and depri¬ 
vation of rights are both mean and degrading, j 
God is offended with such practices, and it often j 
happens that vengeance overtakes the evil-doer ) 
even in this world. Those who have none to ( 
complain to but God, are especially to be dread¬ 
ed ! Treat no one ill, or retribution will soon 
smite thee.” The other, who was proud and 
obstinate, was offended at these words. “ Bother 
me not with your nonsense,” he growled, “ nor 
provoke me with your cock and bull stories.” j 
He was gone. As it happens, however, that ' 
oppressors can never prosper, a destructive fire ! 
broke out from his pile of wood, and the flames j 
spreading, his house and property were all j 
consumed. The next morning, the old wretch ; 
sat lamenting among his friends, wondering 
where the fire had originated from. “Tyrant!” j 
exclaimed the durwesh, who had counselled him 
the day before, and who was just passing that j 
way, “ it originated from the sighs of the op- ! 
pressed,” Fortunately these words had effect on j 
his heart. Ashamed of himself, he said, “ It is j 
true, that I planted the seed of oppression, and 
lo ! this is the fruit.” From tha't day he was a j 
changed man. j 


j Story LXXX V. The Monkey and the Figs .— 

I At a time, a certain monkey having given up 
i all intercourse with the world, was living in 
| retirement in a recess of the forest, in which 
j fig trees abounded. The creature knew very well 

I that food was necessary for the support of animal 
life, and that in the forest in question there were 
no other fruits but figs. If then, he ate all the 
figs, ripe and unripe, what would become of 
him in the winter ? Resolved he was therefore to 
break the figs from one tree daily, to feed on as 
many as he required, and to dry and keep the 
| rest for summer and winter provisions. Thus 
he went on for some time. One day a wild boar, 
escaping from hunters, made his appearance in 
that forest. Tree after tree he examined; but 
not a fruit could he find. At last he came to the 
one on which the monkey was that moment sit¬ 
ting. He beheld the new comer, and wondering 
in his heart, asked who he was. The latter blest 
him and said—“I am a traveller in these woods. 
Can I expect hospitality from you?” “You are 
right welcome !” exclaimed the monkey, warmly, 
“ if I had known that you were coming, I would 
have prepared something for your reception.” 
“Don’t trouble yourself,” said the other, “I am 
but a traveller; any thing will satisfy me.” At 
last the ihonkey was obliged to shake a tree. 
The boar ate heartily, till not a single fruit re¬ 
mained on the ground, then turning to the mon¬ 
key, “Friend!” he said, “ I am not satisfied; 
give a shake to another tree, please.” This the 
other did also, and the fruits were immediately 
devoured. The boar then pointed to a third 
tree. “ My dear guest! ” cried the monkey, “ do 
not forget justice ; I have offered thee food, 
which would have supported me for months. 
More I cannot give.” “This forest,” said the 
boar, in angry tones, “has been in thy posses¬ 
sion from years. For a moment, make me the 
owner.” “ It is not dignified to become angry,” 
remarked the monkey,” “ regain your temper, 
and cease afflicting the weak, for oppressors are 
sure to be punished.” This enraged him more. 
“ This moment,” he said, “ I shall cast thee down 
from the tree.” And sure enough, he was climb¬ 
ing, when the first branch on which he had set 
his foot gave way, and he came headlong down, 
a corpse. 

Moral This is a world of retribution. As 
you treat others, you will be treated. 

Story LXXXVI. The Ascetic and his guest .— 
In the land bordering on Kanouje lived an ascetic, 
who passed all his time in prayers. What 
he got from heaven, he shared among travellers. 
One day a pilgrim stopped at his hut. The holy 
man came out with a smiling countenance, wel¬ 
comed him warmly, and enquired whence he 
had come, and whither he was going.-—“ Mine is 
a long story,” answered the guest. “ If you will 
permit me, I shall recount it.” “ Go on, I am 
sure to benefit by it,” was the reply. “ I am a 
Christian,” began the guest, “and by trade a 
baker. A landholder was my friend. He sup- 




40 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


plied me with corn and took its price in time, 
by degrees. This of course was very conveni¬ 
ent to'me. One day he invited me to his gar¬ 
den, asked me how I lived, what my income 
was, and whether 1 was comfortable. I gave him 
a faithful account of my income and expenses, 
and added, that the former was not sufficient 
for the support of self and family.” “ Why,” 
remarked the landlord, “ I believed the income 
of thy trade to be large ; but I see I was wrong.” 
I then turned to him and asked “ Friend! 
what is thy capital, and what thy gains V ’ “ The 
first small,” he answered, t£ and the second large. 
A few seeds sown, give a rich harvest; but I am 
not content for all that.” I expressed surprise 
at this. “ Be not astonished,” said the farmer, 
“ the gains of husbandry are great. Take a 
poppy seed for instance, which is the smallest of 
seeds; sow it in good ground, and let it ger¬ 
minate and grow. It will have twenty or more 
branches, and each will be crowned with a poppy 
containing innumerable seeds. From this, know 
that the gains of my profession are great.” 
These words had great effect on me. From that 
moment I busied myself in agricultural matters. 
A wise durwesh, who was living in my neigh¬ 
bourhood, heard of this affair, and calling me 
to his house rebuked me severely, and said:— 
“ Sir, be content with the gains of your own 
trade; for covetousness is the worst plague of 
life and eventually leads her slaves to ruin and 
disgrace.” “ But,” said I, “ the gains of my 
trade are not sufficient for my support.”—“ They 
have been hitherto sufficient for thee,” said the 
durwesh,” why should they be not so for the 
remaining years of thy life ? No, no ; renounce 
covetousness and stick to thy trade.” “I made 
a mistake, however, and turned a deaf ear to 
his counsels. My creditors surrounded me on 
all sides—I had nothing in hand to satisfy their 
demands. At last, when matters came to a 
crisis, I decamped from the city, and am now 
leading a vagrant life.” 

Moral —Never abandon your profession. 

Story LXXXYII. The Washerman and the 
Crane .—A washerman was in the habit of wash¬ 
ing clothes on the banks of a tank. There he 
daily beheld a crane, who would come regularly, 
feed on some of the worms to be found in the 
tank, and return to his nest very contentedly. 
One day a swift-winged hawk made his ap¬ 
pearance, attacked and killed a partridge, and 
having devoured a portion of its flesh, left the 
remainder and flew oft. The Crane, on seeing 
this occurrence, thought within himself, that a 
small animal like the hawk had courage to attack 
and prey on large creatures ; whereas he, a big 
bird, was content with feeding on worms. This, 
he believed, showed nothing but cowardice on his 
part. From that day, then, he resolved to prey 
on pigeons and patridges. The washerman be¬ 
held all from a distance. One day a pigeon 
appeared in sight, and the crane flew after it with 
a view of bringing it down. The other changed 


i its course, whereupon the crane, in endeavour- 
j iug to follow it, fell on the banks of the tank, 
{ and his feet got entangled in the mud. The 
| more he tried to take himself out, the deeper 
i he sank; until at last his wings got wet and 
| he lay in a helpless state. The washerman ran 
; and caught him. While taking him home, a 
; friend met him, and enquired what the creature 
/ was he had got, and how he had managed to 
; catch it. “ Why” said the other, “ this is a 
' foolish crane, who in trying to act the part of a 
' hawk has brought himself to disgrace.” 
i Story LXXXVIII. A Man with two Wives. — 

| A man had two wives, one old and the other 
i young. He himself was middle-aged. Both he 
\ loved equally. Night and day would he remain 
| in their compauy, and when about to sleep, 

! would lay his head on the lap of one, and fall 
[ off to rest. One day he was with his old wife, 
j and laying his head on her lap fell asleep. The 
\ dame looking on his whiskers and beard, thought 
j it best to remove all the black hairs therefrom, 

\ and leave him completely grey, so that his 
) young wife would lose all affection for him, in 
which case, it was probable, that he would notice 
( her conduct, and separate himself from her, to 
j pass his days exclusively with the other, herself. 

' Her resolution she carried into effect. The next 
| day the man visited his young wife, and fell 
/ asleep with his head on her lap. The idea which 
( had occurred to the old woman the day before, 
now presented itself to the young one ; and 
she tried her best to remove the grey hairs from 
/ her husband’s beard. Thus in a few days the old 
j map found to his shame, that his beard had 
! entirely disappeared. Long did he beat his head 
through vexation, but it availed him nothing. 
i Story LXXXIX. The Fowler and the Scho- 
lars. —A poor old man used to gain his liveli¬ 
hood by fowling and fishing. Oue day, while 
j he was just on the point of entrapping three 
birds, his ears were assailed with a loud noise. 

; Emerging from his recess, to see what the mat 
| ter was, he beheld two scholars disputing 
| with each other. Though the fowler begged 
j hard of them not to make a noise, they minded 
\ him not, till at last, he was obliged to pro- 
i mise them a bird each, to induce them to hold 
f their tongues. He drew his net and got the birds, 
i The scholars claimed their shares. Hard did 
the fowler beg to be excused. “These three 
; birds,” he said, “ are all that I have to live on to- 
\ day. If I were to give you two, what shall I do 
\ with one only l ” They heeded him not, till at 
| last he was obliged to satisfy their demands, 
j “ Well, now,” he said, “ the birds you have got; 

' tell me, please, what you were disputing about. 

Pei’haps I shall be benefited by that means one 
| of these days.” “ Why,” said they, “ the sub- 
! ject of our dispute was, whether a hermaphrodite 
! was entitled to an inheritance.” And what is a 
| hermaphrodite ? ” asked the fowler. “ One who 
! is neither a man nor a woman,” was the answer. 
The fowler remembered the word, went grieving 





KH1RUD UFROZ. 


41 


home, told the particulars to his children, and 
remained that night half-starving. The next 
day he went out fishing, and by chance got a 
lovely fish, the like of which no one had seen be¬ 
fore. The fisherman knowing that such a fish was 
seldom caught, resolved to take it alive to the 
king. He placed it in a vessel full of water, and 
repaired to the palace. It was usual with the 
king, on a certain fixed day, to sit on his terrace, 
below which was a marble tank, containing fishes 
of all colors and descriptions. That day he was 
there. The fisherman came and placed the offering 
before him. He was highly pleased, and ordered 
a thousand deenars to be given to the man. 
One of his courtiers rose, and folding his hands 
stood before him and said:—“ Fish, sire ! we 
have plenty in the pond, and fishermen also ai’e 
as numerous. If then, a thousand deenars are to 
be paid for a single fish, the exchequer will be 
emptied in a day or two, and the revenue of the 
state will not be sufficient to meet the expenses.” 

“ But I have already passed my royal word,” said 
the king, “ how can it be recalled 1” “ That is 
easy enough. Ask the man, if the fish he has 
brought is male or female. If he says it is male, 
dii’ect him to bring a female of the same kind, 
if the reverse, order him to get a male, and then 
the thousand deenars will be paid him. Of 
course he will be unable to do what he is bade, 
and will then be content with a small sum.” The 
king did as desired. “ Is this a male or female 
fish ?” he asked. “ May it please your Majesty,” 
answered the old fisher, quite awake to the 
dodge, “ ’tis a hermaphrodite, neither male nor 
female.” The king was much amused with the 
answer, and ordered another thousand deenars to 
be added. Pleased, moreover, with the acute¬ 
ness of the man’s sense, he made him a courtier. 

Story XC .—The Crow and the Partridge .— 
As a crow was flying one day, he beheld a par¬ 
tridge, with whose graceful walk he was much 
pleased. Determined to walk in the same way, 
he left off food and drink, and always followed 
him. The partridge seeing him daily, enquired 
what his object was. “ I am determined to walk 
like you,” replied the crow, “ and thereby gain 
the respect of friends.” “What an idea!” ex¬ 
claimed the other, laughing, “ do not make a fool 
of yourself; but abandon the thought.” “ I 
shall do no such thing! ” said the crow, “ I shall 
either die or learn thy mode of walking.” For 
years then the foolish crow followed the par¬ 
tridge, but never a bit did he learn to walk like 
him. On the contrary he forgot his own way of 
walk, and, then there was no remedy for it. 

Story XCI .—Sources of pride to Kings, <&c. 
There reigned in Hindoostan a King, named 
Mullar, whose troops were numerous, and whose 
wealth large. He was greater than other Kings, 
and was proud of several things, which were 
seen in his court exclusively. The first of these 
was, that he had two sons the most handsome 
and good-natured princes of the time, whose 
chief delight was to act according to the will of 


i their father. One was named Suheyl-i-yemen, 
j and the other Mah-i-khoten. Secondly, their 
! mother, Eeran Dokht , by name, was so beautiful, 

\ that one would suppose the Creator hadexhaust- 
j ed his creative power on her. At the same 
j time she was the most sweet-tempered living 
\ creature, aud moreover was the very personifica- 
\ tion of Modesty aud Chastity. Added to all 
! these, was the great love she bore the King, 
j Not a moment would she bear to live far from 

> him. Thirdly , he had a vazeer, named Elar, a 
; very honest and economic personage. In the 
/ execution of public duties he was really unri¬ 
valled, never shrinking from any trouble or in- 

j convenience in ensuriug the weal of the people ; 
j and never preferring selfish considerations to 
\ the glory of God. Add to all this, he was so 
J much attached to the King, that forgetting his 
j own existence, he lived but for the service of his 
; royal master, whose will was his law. Fourthly, 
j he had a wise Secretary, who was conversant 

> with all the languages, understood all the affairs 
; of State, and could write in any style it pleased 
J the King to dictate. Notwithstanding that he was 
| such a great personage, he was all faithfulness 

to the King. His name was Kamal. Fifth, he 
| had three elephants, very brisk and agile, and 
' tamed in war to break through the enemy’s 
j ranks. One of them was white. Sixth, he had 
I two camels, mountain-backed and swift-footed, 
j Seventh, he had a horse, fleet as the wind in 
| running. Eighth, a sword whose like was not to 
be found anywhere. Each and all of these were 
I dearly prized by the king. He would take a de- 
[ light in lookiug at them. Then he would only 
\ praise God for His goodness, and busy himself 
| with affairs of State. It happened at this time 
| that a company of ignorant Brahmins had by 
their false teaching succeeded in misleading se- 
i veral persons. The King, who was decidedly 
j the Defender of the Faith of his people, sent for 
; these false preachers, and warned them against 
f their proceedings ; but these unfortunate wretch- 
| es heeded him not. The King at last ordered 
} twelve thousand of these disaffected dupes to 
| be executed, and their houses to be pillaged. 

Four hundred of these, theu immediately feigned 
1 to have renounced their errors, and offered their 
! services to the King; but all the time they were 
' waiting for an opportunity to avenge their bre¬ 
thren slain. At last one night, the king heard 
seven dreadful sounds, which startled him from 
j sleep. He was much afraid at the time, but fell 
off into a slumber again, when he fancied he saw 
I two red fishes, standing on their tails and prais- 
| ing him. He woke again. In short that night 
he° dreamt seven times, awoke seven times aud 
fell off to sleep again. The second dream was 
| this: two colored ducks and a goose lighted from 
j the air and blessed him. Thirdly, he beheld a 
green serpent streaked with yellow and white 
twining itself round him. In the fifth he fan¬ 
cied himself bathed in blood from head to foot- 
Sixthly he saw a pilgrim riding on a camel and 


M 



42 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


going post haste towards the east, with no one 
with him, save a footman and a sweeper. On 
the sixth occasion, he felt a bright fire burn¬ 
ing on his head, and illuminating the darkness 
around. Seventhly he saw a bird sitting on his 
head and pecking at it. This time the monarch 
screamed so loudly, that the whole household 
was roused and ran to him. He on his part be¬ 
came anxious to hear the dreams interpreted; 
but what wise man to ask, he knew not. In 
these thoughts, morning dawned. The king giv¬ 
ing way to precipitancy, and without exercising 
any prudence, sent for those wicked brahmius, 
who had dissimulated faithfulness, and related 
to them the dreams of the night. Perceiving 
that the monarch was alarmed, they informed 
him, that the interpretation of the dreams was 
not easy, and that they must first consult their I 
books before they gave any decisive opinion. \ 
They retired. Now, they saw, was the time, to f 
give fair play to their rascality ; now, they knew, j 
was the opportunity of avenging their brethren 
slain. Hesitation was not to be thought of. j 
Boldness of speech was evidently most service- j 
able. Resolved they were to tell their sovereign, i 
that the seven dreams indicated seven dangers, j 
from each of which it would be difficult to escape j 
with life. If safety was desired, the only way \ 
to ensure it, was to kill all the best ministers of ; 
the court. The king was to sit in water for an ^ 
hour, and the blood thus shed, was to be sprin- ( 
kled on him, while the brahmins would go on re- ' 
citing their mvnters. When his ministers are I 
gone, thought they, he cannot escape long ; for \ 
alone and single-handed what can he do. Deter- 
mined to act in this way they presented \ 
themselves before the King, and told him that a j 
terrible calamity was at hand, from which they \ 
hoped his Majesty would escape, if he listened j 
to their words; otherwise, not only would the 
sceptre depart from his hand, but his life too 
would be jeopardised. The king was greatly 
alarmed. ‘-How is safety to be secured?” he 
asked. “Say and you shall be heard.” “The \ 
two fishes, began those diabolical augurs, '< 
“are your two sous, and the serpent °that i 
twined round your legs is your wife. The \ 
two colored ducks are your elephants, and 
the large goose, the white one. The camel is j 
the horse, you own, and the footman and the j 
sweeper indicate the quick-paced camel. The j 
fire which burnt on your head, typifies your 
minister liaar ; and the bird which was pecking \ 
at your head, the Secretary Kamal. The blood f 
with which your body was bathed, shows that \ 
these creatures will all combine in destroying 
you, and you will be made to welter in your i 
blood. Now if you wish to escape this danger 
act thus: kill the Children with their Mother I 
together with the minister, the Secretary, the ele- '< 

. phants, the horse, and the camel. Collect their I 
blood in a vessel, then take your sword, dip it ' 
therein, and breaking it in two, bury it with the j 
remains of the dead. We shall after this mix I 


\ their blood with pure river water; and you: 
| Majesty must sit in water, and we shall spriukh 
I you with the fluid we shall have prepared. We 
j shall moreover, repeat some munters oe’r you 
\ and write a talisman over your forehead and 
j shoulders. After this you can bathe and anoint 
I yourself. By these means, we are confident 
) you will escape danger.” The king heard this 
' and was much saddened. “Raise friends!” he 
< said, “ rather than hearken to your advice, I 
; would prefer death. When I have sacrificed those 
( objects which conduce to my happiness, what 
; joy will there be left in life for me?” 

Story XCII — Solomons 'preference of a mortal 
life, So. In the reign of Solomon, (who ruled 
over the whole animal creation) a cup holding 
the water of immortality was brought him by 
a Sage. “ If you do not drink this,” said the 
messenger, “I am instructed by a voice from 
high to tell you, that you will soon depart from 
this world; but if you do—everlasting life will 
be yours. Now here is the water of immortality. 
Drink and live till the day of judgment; or do 
not, and be annihilated.” In a matter like this, 
thought Solomon, the wise should be consulted. 
Convening then a council, in which Sages of all 
races were present he laid the matter before them. 
All were in fapmr of life. The drift of their argu¬ 
ment was this:—“Life,” they said, “is thesweetest 
boon of heaven to us. With wisdom and the fear 
of God, it can be enjoyed to advantage for ever.” 
They were all of opinion that His Majesty should 
drink the water. “ Is there no philosopher of my 
own country present,” asked Solomon, “to advise 
me?” “No,” said the others, “the Heron is not 
present.” The horse was sent to call him; but 
inasmuch as he was a recluse and had given up 
all intercourse with the world, he would not listen 
to the words of the horse. The dog was deputed 
next. With him came the Heron. “ I have 
sent for thee, to be advised,” said Solomon ; “ but 
before I disclose mattei-s to thee, tell me, why 
you came not, when the horse, a noble animal, 
was sent to iuvite thee, and came when a dog, 
which is a hated creature, went?” The Heron’ 
began very modestly.—“ Who am I,” he said, “to 
advise, the wisest of the time? However, as 
I have been honored with a call, I hope fortune 
will assist me in saying words which will be 
agreeable to his Majesty. Monarch !” he cotinu- 
ed, “although the horse is a noble-looking ani- 
mal, yet he has never grazed in the Field of 
Fidelity, nor drunk from the Fountain of Faith. 
Ancient Sages have said, that a Woman, a Sword’ 
and a Horse are never faithful. On the other 
hand, though the dog is not handsome to look 
at, yet his are unswerving fidelity and unchang¬ 
ing Faith. I in my solitude, could not believe 
the words of one notorious for his faithlessness ; 
but when a good creature came to invite me, I 
readily followed him.”—Solomon was pleased 
with the explanation, and then questioned him 
about the advisability of drinking the water of 
life. “King !” asked the Heron, “ will you alone 




KHIRUD I3FR0Z. 


43 


drink it or your friends also 1” “ It has come for ) 
me alonewas the reply; “ having no permission, J 
how can I give it to others 1” “ Then, protector | 
of the world!” returned the other, “ what is life 
without friends? God has made you ruler in this 
world; how will you manage without assistants ?” 
Solomon praised the wisdom of his adviser, j 
and sent back the water of life. 

Story XCIII. — The King, the Woodcutter, the 
Durwesh , &c. —In Yemen there lived a King, wise j 
of head and kind of heart. One day having j 
gone out to hunt, and not having succeeded in \ 
bagging any creature, he lost his spirits, and was \ 
looking about him, when all on a sudden his eyes j 
fell on a wood-cutter, who had clad himself in J 
deer-skin, and was that moment, taking breath ( 
after his work, leaning on a rock; the King i 
mistaking him for a deer, discharged an arrow at j 
him, which flew right to the aim, and wounded j 
the poor fellow. When the hunter approached j 
him, he found him weltering in his blood. Very S 
sorry was he for , what he had done, and much j 
did he reprove himself for his haste. Of the < 
man he begged pardon, gave him some ointment, j 
paid him a thousand deeuars, and returned | 
home, determined not to do any thing precipi¬ 
tately in future. It happened that in the 
vicinity of the city, was the home of a durwesh, \ 
a holy man, who had withdrawn himself \ 
from the temptations of the world, to live a life i 
of contentment and quiet. The King resolved j 
to visit and consult him. Entering his oratory, j 
he paid him all the honors, which Kings show to j 
pious men, and requested of him to favour him 
with some gems from his mine of wisdom, which j 
would serve to edify him in life, and secure his j 
salvation afterwards. “ Protector of the world!” i 
said that pure-hearted man, “ the quality which 
best adorns royalty is refraining from Anger.” 

“ True it is,” answered the King, “ but it is very j 
difficult to curb your temper when it is excited by j 
auger. And what is worse, I have no adviser in the j 
Court who would do the needful for me. How j 
then is this to be managed?” “For Princes,” j 
returned the other, “it is necessary to make a { 
confidant of a true and worthy domestic, and to j 
authorise him to try his best to cool his master’s 
temper when he is angry, by reminding him of j 
the sin he is committing. But until you secure > 
the services of such an one, I shall give you three 
pieces of paper, with something written on them. > 
Place these in charge of one of your courtiers, j 
and desire him always to look out, so that the \ 
moment he finds you angry, or about to be j 
angry, he may hand over one of those bits to | 
you. If you are wise, this will cool you. But j 
should it not, let the second be immediately pre¬ 
sented, and if the corraption of Nature still tri- 
umphs in you, let him hand over the third. I j 
hope to God this will succeed in banishing rage j 
from your heart.” The King was highly delighted 
and the durwesh wrote out his counsels on three i 
bits of paper, and made.them over to one of the ; 
courtiers. On the first was written : Never place ; 


the reins of thy temper in the hands of pas¬ 
sion, otherwise it will cast thee from God’s 
favor, and lead thee to destruction.” On the 
second was written :—“ When you are angry, be 
kind to the powerless, and He who is the Most 
Powerful will be kind to you.” The third said; 
“ Obey the dictates of Reason, and turn not 
away thy face from justice.” The King thanked 
God, and returned to his palace, and from that 
day his minister was always with him, with the 
three bits of paper, which served in a great mea¬ 
sure to pacify his temper. It happened that 
this King had a beautiful and good-tempered fe¬ 
male slave, whom he loved dearly. The queen 
grew jealous at this, and set about devising mea¬ 
sures to remove her rival. But no confidante 
had she. At last she had recourse to her hair¬ 
dresser, and they both came to the resolution of 
killing the King and punishing the slave. “ Tell 
me” said the domestic, addressing the Queen, 
“ which part of the slave’s body does the King 
admire the most ?” “ The chin,” was the answer. 
“ Well then,” pursued the other, “ I shall mix 
poison with some indigo and place it on the 
girl’s chiu as an artificial mole. The King will 
of course kiss it, and will be there and then set¬ 
tled. The removal of the girl afterwards will 
be easy enough.” The queen agreed to the plan, 
and the hair-dresser set about carrying it into 
execution. By chance, however, the wffiole of 
the conversation above recorded, was overheard 
by one of the slaves of the King. Much did he 
like to disclose all to his Majesty, or even to the 
girl; but no opportunity could he find to do so. 
One day the King was sleeping in the apartments 
of his beautiful mistress, when the faithful slave 
determined to risk his life in the service of his 
master. Boldly then, he walked into the private 
apartments. The King saw the intruder, and 
drawing a sword ran after him. The slave 
fled, pursued by the King. On the door 
stood the confidant, with the three bits of 
paper. Beholding the Monarch in a paroxysm 
of rage, he showed the first bit to him. In vain. 
The second was then shown. Useless again. 
However when the third was handed over, the 
King checked himself, and sending for the Slave, 
asked him what he meant by his boldness ! The 
other told all, and added that when he had found 
no other way of meeting his Majesty, lie had 
determined to cast himself in danger, just for 
the purpose of speaking to him. The Queen was 
theu sent for, and enquiries made of her. She 
denied all and added : “ Protector of the world ! 
I have often been told that there is something 
very tender going on betweeu this slave and the 
girl; but 1 took no notice of the stories, knowing 
well that if I told you, you would not believe 
me, and I would thenceforward be noted as a 
busy-body. Now that you have seen his unscru¬ 
pulous conduct, delay hot his execution. Let 
none of his excuses prevail.” The King looked 
towards the slave. “ I cannot ask you,” said 
the other, addressing the King, “to have the 



44 


KHIRUD UFROZ. 


blue mole on the girl’s chin examined by any 
one; but if you will send for the hair-dresser, 
and examine her casket, the whole truth will be 
made known at once.” The hair-dresser was sent 
for. She came, and the casket was found with 
her, and in it the indigo preparation, which she 
was ordered to taste. Though much reluctant 
to do this, yet she could not disobey. She ate— 
and died that moment. The truth was now 
found out. The queen was imprisoned, and the 
slave freed and honored with a post in the 
government. 

Moral. It was mildness which saved the King 
from destruction. The great, and especially 
Sovereigns, should never be precipitate. 

Story XGIV. The Pigeons .—A pair of pigeons 
had collected a quantity of grain in the rainy 
season for winter consumption. As the grains 
were moist they appeared a good deal; but 
when the warm season had passed away, and 
they dried up, they seemed much less than what 
they were before. The male bird had gone out 
to travel. On his return, he observed the 
decrease, and began reproving the female for draw¬ 
ing . on the provisions of winter, when she 
should have gone out and found her daily food 
in the woods. She on her part denied the 
charge, and Strongly maintained that not a 
grain had she touched; but the male bird not 
believing her, beat her to such a degree, that 
she died. The rainy season returning, the grains 
were moistened again, and appeared as much as 
they had been last year. The male then found out 
what the real cause of the decrease was. Much 
did he reprove himself for haste, and sadly did 
he grieve for the dear friend he had lost. 

Moral. In no case, and especially in matters 
of life and death, should the wise be precipitate. 

Story XG V.—The King and the Goldsmith .— 
Ihe king of Aleppo wishing to have jewels made 
for the daughter of a friend of his, heard of 
the fame of a certain goldsmith. He sent for 
him, and ordered him to make the jewels in 
question in his presence. As the man was 
ve ry clever and acute, he day by day gained the 
king s favor, and at last became one of his con- 
fidants. A wise man of the Court saw all 
this, and presenting himself before the monarch, 
Protector of the world!” he said, “without en¬ 
quiring into the wisdom and character of that 
man, your Majesty has honored him too far. 
Ruleis in ancient times avoided intercourse with 
the opulent low, and never preferred them to 
high posts. This goldsmith, I cannot help think¬ 
ing* though not a common fellow, is still for all 
that a man of no character. His talk is scanda¬ 
lous,. and malevolence colors all his thoughts. 
Gratitude and fidelity can never be found in 
such persons. I have often remarked, that when 
you show favor to any one, his brow becomes 
dark, and wise men have said, that oue of the 
signs of the wicked is this : he can never bear 
to see the good of another. The great should 
associate with the virtuous and the wise.” 


j “Stop a bit, my well-wisher!” said the king, 

■ “ I see thou speakest warmly; but this man is 
) respectable, and his respectability is apparent 
from his looks and manners. I am sure his 

> mind also is adorned with noble qualities.” 

| “ Beauty,” answered the minister, “is the snare 
] fools - The wise never go after external ap- 
l pearances. A philosopher, in days of yore, fell 
l in love with a charming girl, and at last succeed¬ 
ed in possessing her. But when he came to 

' know her inward qualities, he found that she 
j was the most wicked creature alive. Turning 

> away from her, therefore, “The house was hand- 
; some indeed,” he said, « but there is no good 

occupant in it.” “ He whose temper is good,” 

5 remarked the king, “ should be provided for. 

? frhe defects you see in him, originate from his 

> want- of education. When trained up, he will 
? be a different man.” “Protector of the uni- 
$ verse!” said the vazeer, “the wise make no mis- 
1 take between the good and the bad. If the 
; unworthy be educated for a thousand years, still 

> his nature will not be altered.” 

> Story XGVI.— The King and his two Sons .— 

/ A great and brave king of Turkey had two good- 
) looking, good-tempered sons. When the king 
: died, the elder brother got possession of the 
1 throne by force, and opened the doors of the 
| treasury. The younger brother, fearing harm, 

| l e ft his country, aud went out travelling alone. 

' The whole day he walked. In the evening he 
] arrived at an inn, where he passed the night. 

j I' 1 the morning he set out again. By chance ' 

> another handsome-looking youth, who had seen 
< the world, became his companion. The prince, 
j who had traced goodness in his looks, delighted 

> in his friendship. In the next stage they met a 
l youug merchant, who had left home for tra- 
! veiling. In the third, a farmer’s son became 
\ their acquaintance. Thus, in the society of each 

> other, the fatigues of the way were easily borne 
| by the four friends. At last, after wandering 
) about for some time, they reached the city of 
l Nistow, and put up in an inn. They were all 
s out of expenses. Now is the time, said they, 

when each should bring his talents into use, and 
after gaining some thing, stay in the city for a 
few days. “Every thing,” remarked the prince, 
“depends on the will of God. Human efforts 
can accomplish nothing, and wise is he who never 
wastes his endeavours.” “Riches,” observed the 
handsome youth, “ are to be acquired by means 
of beauty.” “Beauty,” said the young merchant, 
“is an article whose price always varies. Virtue * 
understanding, and a knowledge of business, are’ 
the best of all good qualities. Those who are 
blest with these, always succeed in their desires.” 
But understanding,and a knowledge of business,” 
said the farmer’s son, are not always of use. 

I have often seen the wise failing, and the igno¬ 
rant succeeding. There are many arts which 
assist men a great deal, and make the wise rich 
and independent.” At last, when the turn 
came for the prince to speak again, “I still 




ICHIRUD UFROZ. 


45 


* 


maintain,” said he, “ what I advanced before. I 
deny that beauty and a knowledge of the arts 
are instrumental in gaining wealth. It is fate, 
and £ate alone, which disposes all. It is best to 
obey God, to entrust our concerns to Him, and to 
rely on His mercy ; for He who has made us, 
also provides for us. 

Story XCVII .—The Countryman losing and 
regaining his Property .—A generous country¬ 
man, living in Andalusia, had amassed a little 
fortune. At one time when his income exceed¬ 
ed his expenses, he had laid by three hundred 
deenars. This was his chief stock, and highly did he 
value it. Often would he send for his purse, take 
out the glittering coins, and gratify his heart by 
counting and recounting them. One day, just 
after this proceeding, as he was going to deposit 
them in the usual place, he heard the sound of 
the footsteps of a friend. Not wishing another 
to see the wealth he had, he immediately drop¬ 
ped the purse into a water-vessel, and joined 
his friend, to take a stroll through the village. 
When departing, he told his wife to keep the din¬ 
ner ready against his return. When he had 
gone, his better-half rose to look to the cooking 
of the dinner. Finding the water-vessel empty, 
she took it up. and stood at the door in expecta¬ 
tions of meeting some one who would fetch 
water for her. By chance, a village butcher, 
who had come to purchase cows, was just pass¬ 
ing that way. He was an acquaintance of the 
farmer’s wife, and she desired him to take the 
trouble of fetching water for her. He agreed 
to oblige her, and the vessel with the deenars 
in it, was handed over to him. In the way, 
he heard the chinking sound of coins, and look¬ 
ing into the vessel found the purse in it. 
Bight glad was he at the discovery, and deter¬ 
mined to lay by the treasure as his capital, and 
live on the gains of his profession. Giving up 
the idea of going for water, he repaired to the 
market, bought many a fat and young cow, and 
turned homeward. In the way lie thought, that 
if he kept the purse with him, thieves might 
attack him, and if he buried it under ground, 
he would have no rest the whole of that night. 
What was worse, he knew no trustworthy 
person with whom he could deposit it. He re¬ 
solved at last to shove it down the throat of one 
of his cows, and thus take it home. This he did. 
When near home he met his son, who had come 
on to inform him of a certain business which he 
(the father) was required to do in the city. Mak¬ 
ing over his purchases to his son, the butcher 
turned towards the city. Just at this moment 
the countryman and his friend were returning 
home. The former had long entertained a wish 
of purchasing a cow for the purpose of sacrific¬ 
ing it; and now, when he saw a fine fat animal, 
he paid the butcher’s son the price asked, and 
brought the cow home. He then thought of the 
deenars, and went to remove them from the vessel. 
What was his surprise to find no trace of them, 
can better be imagined than described. He asked 


j his wife what had become of the vessel. The wo- 
\ man told all. “Nothing but patience and resig- 
; nation,” thought the farmer, “can help me now.” 

{ He then proceeded to sacrifice the cow. When 
j the entrails were being cleaned, the purse of 
{ deenars came out. The man was beside himself 
| through joy. After a time he was all right, 
j Lifting up the purse then, he washed it careful- 
j ly, took out the coins, kissed them repeatedly, 
| and applied them to his eyes From that time he 
j determined to carry about the purse with him, 
t and never to part with it for a single moment 
even. Thenceforward his money and he were 
/ together. This displeased the wife. “Your 
j conduct,” she remarked, “ indicates that you 
> have no reliance on God. Depend on it, those 
\ who are destined to get money, will never be 
i debarred from their portion.” “ My good wo- 
! man,” returned the husband, “nothing in this 
| world is done without means. For appearance’ 
I sake, we must look after our property; though 
[ our heart may have thorough reliance on God. 
| A sage has said :—“ Be not negligent; for this 
) world is a world of property. Take care of 
! thine own, and trust in thy Creator.” The wife 
j held her peace. One day he w 7 ent out to bathe, 
| Undressing himself, he had his bath, but when 
j he returned therefrom, he left the purse behind. 
( A shepherd, who came after him, to give drink 
\ to his flock, found the purse, took it home, and 
; taking out and counting the deenars found them 
| numbering three hundred. “These three hun- 
j dred,” he said to himself, “will be reduced by 
I spending, and perhaps I shall not be able to re- 
J place them. Better it is to lay them by for 
hard times. In a word, that fool really put 
them aside, closed his mouth in silence, and 
j followed his profession. When the farmer 
j thought of his money, he was extremely sorry, 
| wept bitterly, returned home half distracted, 
j and disclosed the particulars to his family. His 
| wife, after cursing and reproving him, added, 
' “ Fool! with what care did you save that sum. 
/ Your children were denied the use of the same, 
i and now art thou weeping V’ “ Your reproofs 
| are just,” said the other, “ pity that I took so 
j much vain care in the preservation of that sum 
| of money, and denied its use to my wife and 
j children !” He then vowed never to collect 
\ money again, but to spend all in feeding and 
| clothing his wife and children. Resigned was 
j he at last to the will of God. The shepherd, in 
the meantime, was looking after his goats, the 
purse under his arms, when a body of horsemen 
( came in sight. Afraid that they should rob him 
\ of his treasure, he dropped the purse into a well, 

\ and as the day had closed, drove back his flock 
j to its fold. Just as he had gone, the country- 
\ man came to the well, when a strong gust of wind 
; blew his turban into it. He descended therein, 
j and searching for the turban, found the purse, 
j and in it the identical three hundred deenars. 

| Coming home, he told his wife how God had 
| given him another three hundred, for the sum 



46 


KH1RUD UFROZ. 


he had lost; and according to promise began 
spending it in promoting the comforts of his 
wife and children. The shepherd, after he had 
locked up his flock, returned to the well, and 
searched for the purse in it, but all in vain. 
Sad, he wandered about in the forest. After 
a long time he happened to visit the farmer, 
by whom he was treated very kindly. After 
dinner, they were talking ou many subjects, 
when the shepherd began to complain of the 
world, and tears started to his eyes. The 
countryman enquired why he was w 7 eeping. 

“ Why do you ask me ?” the other said with 
a sigh, “ I had three hundred deenars belong¬ 
ing to me, with which I had hoped to spend 
life comfortably. One day robbers surprised me, 
and to escape from them I dropped the purse 
into a certain well. The next day, when I went 
to look for it, it was not there.” On hearing ■ 
these woi’ds, the countryman rose, and going to j 
his wife, said, “ I fancied the deenars I had got to ! 
be mine, and was therefore spending them freely. j 
But it appears that they were by right the pro- < 
perty of our guest. It is better now to give him j 
what is left by way of present, and keep the se- j: 
cret to myself. This will partially console him, > 
at the same time that we shall not suffer from , 
any evil consequence. On the contrary, if the < 
truth were to be disclosed to him, he would < 
claim the whole sum, which of course is not j 
forthcoming.” The woman agreed to the pro- f 
position. “Give him the property to whom it i 
belongs by right,” said she, “and live content; < 
God will reward you for your straightforward- j 
ness. - ’ Acting upon this resolve, he placed a i 
hundred deenars (what was left) before the ehep- > 
herd, who took them up gladly, thinking all the s 
while that the remaining two hundred would ji 
soon come also. This time, he was determined j: 
to be more careful. He had a hollow made in t 
his shepherd’s crook, and placed the deenars in \ 
them. One day, while standing on the river-side, < 
the crook fell from his hands, and in spite of his > 
efforts, was borne away by the current. That very | 
moment, and in the same river, the countryman I 
w r as bathing. As the crook was floating past him, } 
he took it up and brought it home. His wife < 
w'as cooking, when he carne in, and fuel had just ; 
failed her. Without hesitation, her husband pro¬ 
ceeded to cleave the stick, when all the deenars 
rolled out before him. On counting, he found 
them to be one hundred. He praised God, and 
opened the hand of generosity* once more. After 
three days the shepherd came again, this time 


$ more thoughtful than before. On being ques- 
\ tioned he said that he had lost a hundred 
deenars. “Now tell me the truth,” said the 
farmer, “ where did you get three hundred in 
) the first instance, or by what means did you 
5 collect them?” He disclosed all. “On the margin 
< of such a fountain,” he began, “ I found the 300 
} deenars, and the hundred I have lost now, was 
i what I received from you.” The farmer smiled 
and said, “ The purse at the fountain-side was 
s mine, and I it was who had found it in the 
j well. The hundred left with me, I gave thee. 
The crook has come to me, and with it my 
jj hundred which I am spending now.” “ Country- 
\ man!” remarked the shepherd, much surprised, 
\ “ you have taught me wisdom : I know now, that 
j the daily food destined for one, cannot be robbed 

> by another. 

> Story XCVIII.— The Ascetic and his guest. 

; Said an old man, “ I used to serve a great 
; personage; but when I came to know the 
| faithlessness of the world, and the tricks of that 

man of guile, I turned aside from vanity, and 
employed myself in pursuits sanctioned by reason. 
One day I saw a bird-catcher selling two hoop¬ 
oes, who were at that moment bewailing their 
fate, and praying to God to grant them deliver¬ 
ance. I took compassion on them, and for my 
own salvation, wished to purchase them and 
then set them free. The man asked two drachms 
for them. I had but that sum in my pocket. 
Long did I stand there, uncertain what to do. 
My heart would not permit me to spend the 
amount with me, nor would my feelings allow 
me to let the birds remain in their captivity. 
At last I relied on Providence, bought the birds, 
and going out of the city set them free. They 
sate on a wall and called me out. “To repay 
the debt of gratitude, we owe thee,” they said, 
“ is not in our power; but underneath this wall is 
buried a box full of gems. Dig and take it out.” 

I was much surprised at this. “ It is strange,” 
I remarked, “ that you can see a box buried un¬ 
der ground, and cannot mark a snare laid for 
you on it. “ When fate frowns,” replied they, 
“the eyes of Keason are closed; what destiny 
wills can never be altered. In such a case nei¬ 
ther the wisdom of the wise, nor the foresight 
of the prudent avails him aught.” 

Moral. It is incumbent on man to be resign¬ 
ed to the will of God, and to consider all earth¬ 
ly good as bounties from Him: for neither 
reason, beauty, nor talents, can be of any use 




VOCABULARY. 


Page. _ j 

1. KMm, ( adj.) foolish, dull. 

Hasrat (subs.) regret, grief. 

2. Tajriba, (subs.) experience. 

Kahish, (sw5s.) diminution. 

3. Wasi, (adj.) extensive, wide. 

4. Asra, (subs.) dependence, place of shelter. ' 

Sahara,' (subs.) hope, assistance. ; 

5. Shahln, (subs.) a royal white falcon. 

Ukab, (subs.) an eagle. ] 

6. Nakel, (subs ) the wooden or iron instru- 1 

ment fixed to a camel’s nose, and to 
which the string by which it is led is / 
fastened. 

7. Muttasil, (adj ) near, contiguous. j 

9. Haiat, (subs.) visage, aspect. ; 

10. Kulfat, (subs ) grief. 

13. Ba-daulat, (prep.) by means of, through. f 
Muta’aiyin, (verb.) deputed, appointed to. < 
16. Tadaruk, (subs.) investigation, retaliation, f 

18. Muraja’at, (verb.) return, recourse, 

Khalish, (subs.) solicitude. 

19. Sardi-o-gurmi-zumani kee. lit. The heat ; 

and cold of the world: hence, days of \ 
prosperity and adversity. 

19. Hatta-l-makdur, to the best of one’s 1 
ability. $ 

21. Dastur-i’-amal, (subs ) rule, model. 

22. Israf (subs ) prodigality, dissipation. 

23. Waslyat, ( subs ) a last will and testament; ; 

mandate. J 

29. Laf, (subs.) boasting, self-praise. 

34. Maskharigi, (subs.) drollery, jest. . ( 

Bil-farz, granting. j 

35. r l a-id, (subs ) aid corroboration. 

Shinawarl, (subs.) act of swimming. 

36. Dabdaba, (subs.) dignity, pomp. 

39. Nauchl, (subs.) young girls kept by bawds, j 
Aubash (subs) a dissolute fellow, 

Pachchi, (verb.) to be strongly attached by \ 

love. 

Nayika, (subs ) the mistress of a house, 1 
particularly of a brothel. j 

Nali, (subs.) tube, spout. ; 

40. Hank-pukar, (subs.) uproar, out-cry. 

41. Shafa’at, (subs.) deprecation, intercession. I 

44. Ta-ammul, (subs.) meditation, (verb) to j 

reflect. f 

44. Mujrnal, (subs.) summary. 

44. Tafsil, (subs.) detail. 

45. Indrayon, (subs.) colocynth, a fruit of \ 

beautiful appearance but bitter taste. 1 

46. Basha, (subs.) a kind of falcon, a hawk. | 
Khanman, (subs.) domestic, every thing \ 

belonging to the house. \ 


Page. 

46. Inhiraf, (subs.) change, recantation, devia¬ 
tion. 

48. Raughan-i-naft, (subs.) naphtha oil. 

48. Ilham, (subs ) Inspiration, revelation. 

49. Than, (subs.) udder. 

50. Kuchl, (subs.) A brush, 

51. Ikdarn, (subs.) diligence, effort, resolution. 
51. Mazarrat, (subs.) detriment, damage, in¬ 
jury ■■ 

54. Sakat, (sicbs) ability, strength, power. 

55. Sabkat, (subs.) precedence. 

Tbrat, (siibs.) an example, warning, grief, 
fear. 

Gahak, (subs.) A purchaser. 

56. Sada, (subs.) sound, voice, noise, tone. 
Za’If-uj-jusa. (adj.) impotent, infirm in 

body, weak. 

58. Tazwir, (subs.) deception, stratagem, lie, 

imposture. 

59. Nirale, (adv.) aside, apart. 

Rarnna, (subs.) a park, a place to roam. 

60. Kur’a, (subs.) a lot. 

61. Mu’tad, (subs.) custom, habit, use. 

Laf and Guzaf, (subs. ) boasting, self-praise 
and idle words. 

62. Muhib, (adj.) formidable, awful. 

63. Jashn, (subs.) a feast, a royal festival. 
Chukkar, (subs ) hole, cave, cavern. 

65. Siuan, (subs.) the sharp point. 

65. Baktar, (subs ) iron armour, a coat of mail. 

69. Aftaba, (subs ) an ewer. 

70. Ihtimal, (siibs.) probability. 

70. Ma’an, (adv.) along with, at the same time. 

72. Tufail, (prep.phrase) by means of, through 

the agency of. 

73. Aman, (subs.) grace, security, safety, pro¬ 

tection. 

74. Kashmakash, (subs.) want, penury, distress. 
79. Sarih. (adj.) apparent, palpable, evident. 
81. Nahka, (subs ) perfume, so called. 

81. Tonta, (subs.) a cracker, a serpent in fire¬ 
works, a cartridge. 

81. Pazahr, (subs.) bezoar stone. 

83. Ilhah, (subs.) importunity, urgency. 

87. Tut punjiya, (subs.) a bankrupt. 

91. Rekab-dar, (subs.) a companion. 

Mushki, (adj.) dark-bay. 

Nuk-ra-i, (subs ) a white-colored horse. 

92. Shagufa, (subs ) a flower, a bud. 

93. Ziyarat, (subs.) pilgrimage, visiting. 

98. Musharraf, (verb.) exalted, ennobled. 

99. Didbazi, (subs ) looking about, recreation. 

100. Tamalluk, (subs.) cajoling, flattery, adula¬ 
tion. 


48 


VOCABULARY. 


Page. 

103. Kitran, (subs.) tar, liquid, pitch. 

Eet, (subs.) sand, filings. 

104, Hazik, (adj.) ingenious, skilful. 

Tashkhis, (verb.) distinguishing perfectly; 

a term much used by physicians, to 
denote their having ascertained their 
patient’s disease. 

106. Himakat, (subs.) folly, stupidity. 

107. Tarana, (subs.) harmony, modulation, sym¬ 

phony. 

110. Zirak, (adj.) intelligent, acute. 

111. Saraslma, (subs.) amazed, confounded, dis¬ 

turbed. 

113. Hall, (verb) solution, overcoming. 
Mashlyat, (subs.) will, pleasure. 

117. Shuja, (adj.) brave. 

118. Imtiyaz, (verb) to discriminate. 

119. Multafat, (verb) attended to. 

119. “ Astaghtirullah,” (int.) “I entreat for¬ 
giveness of God,” or “ God forgive me.” 
121 . Lajajat, (subs.) adulation. 

123. Bent, (subs.) handle. 

125. Tobra, (subs) bag. 

126. Muktaza (subs.) exigence, necessity, expe¬ 

diency. 

127. Chilla, (subs.) a bow-string. 

128. Shubkhoon, (subs ) a night assault. 

Nusrat, (subs.) victory. 

129. Takht, (subs.) assault. 

Huzeemut, (subs.) a defeat. 

130. Atal, (adj.) immovable, fixed. 

131. Khet-avaiu, fall on the field of battle. 
Namoos. (subs.) fame, renown. 

133. Ghamand, (subs.) pride. 

Tadrlj (subs.) gradation, scale. 

134. Talaf, (subs.) loss, destruction. 
Nasheb-faraz, (subs.) (lit.) down and up 

(fig.) advantages and disadvantages of 
any affair—profit and loss. 

135. Amin, (subs) a trustee, a supervisor or 

officer employed by Government to 
examine and regulate the state of the 
revenue of a district. 

135. Mukarraban-durgah, (subs.) confidential 
servants, 

137. Parl-paikar (adj.) angelic, fairy-faced. 
Ramz-o-Tma, (subs.) sign, nod, wink. 

138. Takaiyud, (subs.) diligence, assiduity. 

141. Muhimm, (subs.) important, urgent, mo¬ 

mentous business. 

142. Arnlk, (adj.) deep, profound. 

143. Zu-l-kurnam, (siibs. ) Lord or master of 

two horns: a title of Alexander the 
Great. 

145. Girift, (subs.) an objection, criticism. 

146, Gadla, (adj.) turbid, muddy, dull, dirty. 

151. Nafs-khasis, (subs.) sordid soul; vindictive 

passion. 

152. Dith-bandi, (subs.) the act of enchanting 

the sight; preventing one’s, seeing by 
conjuration. 

155. Khat-ka, (subs.) sound of footsteps. 

156. Dar-ham bar-ham, ('em;;/,) confused. 


] Page. 

159. 

I 160. 

\ 161. 

| 164. 

I 171. 

| 172. 

I 173. 

\ 175. 

| 177. 

5 179. 


181. 

182. 

183. 

186. 

189. 

190. 

191. 


197. 

200 . 

202 . 

204. 

206. 


207. 

208. 
209. 


212 . 


215. 

216. 

217. 

219. 

220 . 

222 . 

223. 

224. 

225. 
227. 


230. 

232. 


Taassuf (subs.) lamenting. 

Paragauda, (verb.) dispersed. 

Firasat, (subs.) sagacity, understanding. 
Himayat, (subs.) defence, patronage. 
Mustajabu-d-da’wat, (subs.) one whose 
prayers are answered. 

Darya-i-Akhzar (subs.) Persian Gulf. 
Ma’zul, (verb.) dismissed; displaced. 
Asalat, (subs ) firmness; constancy. 

Tawila (s 2 ibs.) stable, stall. 

Kumhal-dena, (verb.) to break into a house. 
Khata, (subs.) Northern China; Cathay. 
Fuzla-khar,(sw5s.) lit. remnant-eater; hence 
servant or slave, parasite. 

Khiftat, (subs.) disgrace. 

Kamranl, (subs.) prosperity; felicity. 
Durushti, (subs.) severity ; fierceness. 
Margh-zar, (subs.) a meadow; a place 
abounding in verdure or pastfire. 

Parsa, (adj.) abstemious, chaste, watchful. 
Asa, (subs.) staff; mace. 

Tarkash, (subs ) a quiver. 

Chagal, (subs.) a leathern bottle with a 
spout to it; goatskin. 

Lu’ab, (su,bs.) spittle, saliva, mucus. 
Iztirab, (subs.) agitation ; perturbation; 

restlessness ; chagrin. 

’Anka, (subs.) the phoenix, a fabulous bird. 

called by the Persians simurgh; rare. 
Phus, (adj) old. 

Baka, (subs.) duration ; eternity; stability. 
Shum, (adj.) disgraceful; vile. 

’Udul, (p. part.) receding; declining. 
Awara hoa, (verb.) became distressed ; be¬ 
came miserable. 

Surkhab, (subs.) the name of a bird. 
Khujesta-roo, (adj.) fortunate. 

Munder, (subs. ) the coping of a wall. 
Barnbhl, (subs.) snake’s hole. 

Mukafat, (subs.) retribution, retaliation, 
requital. 

Bhayanak, (adj.) terrific, frightful. 

Kawwal, (subs.) a kind of musician; a 
singer. [of Shah Akbar. 

Tansein, a celebrated musician in the time 
Basarat, (subs.) sight, perceiving. 
Taktaki-lugana, (verb) to fix one’s looks 
on an object in a staring manner. 

Dajla, (subs.) a lake; R. Tigris. 

Iktifa, (subs.) sufficiency; contentment. 
Cheipee, (subs.) flapper. 

Tusht, (subs.) a large bason, ewer or cup. 
Maftun, (adj.) mad with love. 

Istimzaj, (verb) sounding the disposition 
or inclination. 

Ta’ziyat, (subs.) condolence ; lamentat/on. 
Mustakil, (adj.) stable; firm; durable. 
Naw-roz, (subs.) new year’s day according 
to the Persian calender, being that on 
which the sun enters Aries. 

Zean-hal, (subs.) aged condition. 

Kuudli, (subs.) coil; ring; curl. 

Thanua (verb ) to resolve, to determine. 



VOCABULARY. 


49 


Page. 

235 Dhar-mnrna, {verb) to roar. 

237. Sahib-dil, {subs.) a mail of 
sanctity. 

237. Dimagh, {subs.) the brain. 

240. Takalluf, (subs.) ceremony. 

241. Tahni, (subs.) a branch. 

242. Khash khash (subs.) poppy seed. 

245. Daldal, (subs.) a quagmire. 

247. Khunla, (subs.) hermaphrodite. 

Irs, (subs.) inheritance. 

251. 'Ismat, (subs.) chastity. 

Iffat, (subs ) purity; virtue. 

252. Pas-dar, (subs.) a guardian. 

253. Kaz, (subs.) a duck or goose. 

254. Nifak, (subs.) hypocrisy. 

255. Mantar, (subs.) charm ; spell; philtre. 
155. Harf, (subs.) danger. 


Page. 

256. Bukhti, ( adj.) quick-paced. 

261. Ma’ad, (subs.) the place or state to which 
one returns. 

263. Kama-hakku-ho, ( phrase) as it ought; in 

a proper manner. 

264. Mashata, (subs.) a waiting maid ; a woman 

who makes or concerts for marriage. 
Ghab-ghab, (subs.) a dewlap ; double chin. 

265. Di-lerl, (subs.) impudence ; daring. 

266. Lag, ( subs .) affection; love. 

Muftarl, (subs.) liar ; calumniator. 
Arkanidaulat, (subs.) (lit.) pillars of state ; 

(fig.) nobles ; grandees. 

\ 268. Wajabat, (subs.) respect, appearance. 

J 273. HamyanI, (subs.) a purse. 

\ 277. Hakka-bakka, (adj.) confused ; aghast... 

J 283. Arif, (subs.) a wise man ; a holy man. 


worth and 


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